


A Thousand and Three Nights

by Quente



Category: Free!
Genre: AU, Arabian Nights - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quente/pseuds/Quente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Rin (Rayyan) was the Caliph of Marrakech, who out of a broken-hearted vow took a new bride every night and got rid of her in the morning? What if Haruka (Haroun) was a master storyteller who decided to stop Rin's nightly fix?  This tale will gradually unfold the Thousand and <s>One</s> Three Nights, as told by the boys of Free!.</p><p>~ I totally wrote an omake with het smut. Enjoy! ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The storyteller and the Caliph

The first time Haruka El-Amin saw the storyteller, he was with his master and adoptive father, Hassan El-Amin. He was within his first years of intensive Arabic studies, and the language still felt like sand in his mouth. Gone were the soft vowels and sensible syllables of Japanese, and in their place were consonants hard as granite, dry as the waves of sand outside of his (new) hometown. It brought him more frustration than he’d felt possible, but he endured. Anything was better than his first year in Marrakech, jewel city in the Almohad Caliphate or not.

But that day, walking dutifully behind his master with sacks of spice upon his shoulders, Haruka spotted the crowd surrounding a single old man and paused.

“Eh? Haroun?”

“Don’t call me Haroun,” Haruka said, almost automatically. He was rewarded by his master’s (father’s) dry chuckle as the man returned to his side. 

“What caught your eye, lad?”

Haruka nodded toward the storyteller in the central square of the souks, the place called by people of the city the Djema Al F’na.

“Ah, old Sa’id? He’ll give us a good tale! Come, boy, let the others carry the spices back to the donkeys, you and I will see what he has to say.”

Haruka hesitated. Even then he was unsure enough of his understanding, especially of the more difficult concepts (which made reading the Qu’ran a trial), to fear it would simply be a waste of his master’s (father’s) time.

“Come, Haroun,” the man grunted, smirking when Haruka sighed at his mangled name. “You’ll enjoy Sa’id, whether or not you understand him. And I’ll whisper you what you cannot understand.”

So they went and squatted on the arid earth, huddled in the spare shade of the woven rushes that dangled between two tents. The storyteller, Sa’id, was an old man, but such was the power of his movement and voice that before long Haruka forgot completely that the story was channeled through such a simple person. Sa’id’s voice rose and fell, and his limbs moved like water to create the world, and even Sa’id’s eyes did not meet theirs but instead stared blindly before him as if he could actually see the world he conveyed with his voice. 

The old man didn’t stay still for his storytelling. In his loose robes that spoke of Bedouin descent, the man paced around the circle, and the background bustle of the city square faded for Haruka as he wove his tale. 

Haruka _saw_ things. The sand faded, and in its place was an ocean, as vast and deep and velvety as it was in Haruka’s most private dreams. The ocean was full of life, coral that bore the heat of the desert sun, and fish in myriads of colors weaving tapestries beyond Haruka’s sepia-shaded knowledge. Deep within the ocean’s heart, there were humans who could breathe the water as easily as Haruka could breathe air.

Without understanding how, Haruka saw Sa’id swim among them, pointing out the Caliph of the grand city beneath the waves, the beautiful veiled Calipha with her blue and argent scales, even their horses who had the curled tails of a newt and fins of a fish, and the great domes of their palace, all adorned with glittering shells.

Suddenly Haruka realized that he was on his feet, stepping forward as if to enter the grand vision. He felt but could not see the tears on his cheeks that spoke of yearning for that ocean. He only realized it because Sa’id had fallen silent, and all the men squatting around the circle stared at him with curiosity.

Haruka felt his face flush, and he looked down.

“Ah, I’m sorry for my son Haroun, Sa’id. He has never heard the power of your voice, and it seems it has moved him to great emotion by its beauty.” 

Haruka realized that Hassan was standing beside him now, hand on his shoulder, quelling his forward motion. Haruka’s sudden crash back into reality was jarring and painful, and he took a shuddering breath before wiping his tears from his eyes with his sleeve.

“Noble sir,” Haruka said, gritting out the rough syllables as best he could. “Noble sir, please continue with your tale. Did the prince find his way into the palace of the queen? Did he find the golden steed that could fly upon the waves? I must know…”

Sa’id laughed again at Haruka's words. Then he stepped forward, catching Haruka’s chin between his old and sand-worn fingers, glancing keenly into his eyes. Then he directed his words to Haruka’s father, narrowing his eyes as if to bore his gaze directly into Haruka’s soul. “Father of Haroun, you are in danger. This one will amount to nothing. He is a dreamer, and if I am not mistaken, he is a teller of tales. If you send him to me for training, I will make sure to ruin him forever, for no one will be able to keep him from drowning in an ocean of stories as deep as the sea is wide.”

Haruka felt his heart stir. He had never wanted anything more in his life, but from Hassan there was nothing but a long and profound silence.

Then, a great sigh. “I have long feared as much,” Hassan admitted. “But if this is so, then we will prepare Haruka for such a lifetime. He will learn from you, if you will have him, when he is not doing his duties for my family’s business. He will learn from you for the span of a year, for at the end of a year, he will go to the great library in Baghdad to learn from the very scrolls themselves. And then,” Hassan said with great pride and affection, “my son will return a lawyer and interpreter of the Qu’ranic law.”

Haruka bowed his head further, feeling the weight of his master’s (father’s) words weighing upon his soul. In truth he had no great love of the language or the faith or even the life of a lawyer, but this… this year of learning stories, it would sweeten the burden by so much it would become almost bearable. It was more than a slave and a foreigner could hope for.

Sa’id lifted Haruka’s gaze to meet his again with the pressure of his fingers, staring into Haruka's eyes. “Hmm,” he said, “This one has tales of his own to tell. I will have them as mine. Yes. Come to me after the noon prayer, and remain until evening prayer. Between those hours, we will share our tales, and I will teach you my skill.”

“Speaking of prayer, we will return home now, for we have much to attend to before the evening call,” Hassan grunted, but smiled and clasped Sa’id’s arm in thanks. “Name your payment --”

“But --” Haruka broke in, feeling almost desperate now, “What happened at the end of the story?”

Sa’id burst out laughing. “Ahhh. My lad, that question is always, always, what a storyteller desires the most.”

~

During the donkey ride to their estate beyond the walls of the city, Haruka felt a deep discontent grow in his heart. He’d heard the words from Sa’id, that Haruka had tales of his own to tell. It was true, Haruka had them, a whole arsenal...tales of things so strange that Sa’id probably could not fathom them: rabbits and sea gods, princesses and monsters, shrines and star-maidens. But thinking about these things was like yearning for a rain that never fell. If Haruka told these stories, would he have to remember his past?

Haruka sighed and let the slow clod of the donkey’s hooves beat the thought out of his mind.

Soon enough the gates of their estate rose before them, and a tall boy was waiting by the gate to welcome them home.

“ _Okaeri, Nanase_ ,” the boy mumbled.

“ _Tadaima_ , Miyaz,” Haruka said in reply, but the boy snorted as Haruka dismounted from his donkey and handed over the reins.

“Didn’t you agree to remind me of my name, _Haroun_? Oy,” the tall boy sighed. Lately he’d taken to wearing the shrouded white headcloth favored by the Berbers, simply to hide the brightness of his red hair.

“Ah. I forgot. _Tadaima...Mikoshiba_.”

Mikoshiba grinned at him, and together they led the donkeys to the pens, allowing the servants to strip them of their parcels one by one. They spoke of the day’s trade, Haruka relaying the numbers, and Mikoshiba nodding as he made marks upon a tally stick of the panniers of oranges traded for goods.

Behind the donkey pens were the orange trees, the groves of home. Haruka suddenly fell into a memory of his first taste of oranges after that bitter year of slavery, and even now, he thought that the tangy taste reminded him of many things: love, and a surcease from pain, and the support of a new and kindly family. Oranges did not quite taste like freedom, though, because even after he’d been adopted, he realized full well that nothing was _free_.

“What’s on your mind, Nanase? You look like you’re thinking of _that_ time.” Mikoshiba glanced toward Haruka, and then out at the donkeys, frowning just a little. The middle-sized female looked to have a lame ear; he’d attend to that after prayer.

“I was,” Haruka admitted. He relayed in brief words the tale of the day, the storyteller, and his own suddenly decided future.

“Ah? To Baghdad?” Mikoshiba’s face fell, but he mustered a smile to give in return. “I am happy for you, I didn’t think that running an orchard really suited you.”

“Does it suit you, Mikoshiba?”

Mikoshiba shrugged, nodding. “I like learning how to manage the accounts, and the donkeys, and the workers, and the crop… It’s a puzzle of many parts, and I like seeing how the parts interact. If it wasn’t oranges, it would be fish, after all.” Mikoshiba met Haruka’s eyes in a half-humorous, half-sad glance. For both of them, it had been fish, just like their fathers, and their father’s fathers, in that small coastal village in Japan. 

Then there was the storm…

Haruka gave him the same look in return, his own just a little haunted. “Sometimes, nowadays, I forget that we had a home to return to.”

Mikoshiba nodded. “I won’t forget. But until I am my own man, I will repay Hassan’s kindness.” The strength in his expression buoyed Haruka’s mood.

“True.” Haruka said. “And on the way to Baghdad -- I’ll get to ride on a ship.”

“They’d better tie you to the mast, then,” Mikoshiba chuckled, “or we’ll lose you to the call of the waves. Anyway --”

But just then came the call to cleanse their bodies before the evening prayer.

“We’ll talk more later.”

~

In another part of the city of Marrakech, the jewel in the crown of the Almohad Caliphate, a young Caliph’s heart was getting well and truly broken.

Rayyan lay sprawled on his couch, hands over his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his teeth were gritted in a grimace as he tried to withhold his sobs.

“I saw it, Rayyan.” Khou’s eyes too were red with her tears. She was full young to be the Calipha of Fez, but her brother loved her enough to give her a kingdom of her own. Still, she visited often, and today had unfortunately been one of those days. “Rayyan, it was your wife, the woman you have loved so much that you kept no other; she was the one.”

“I cannot believe that your words are true. Yet, sister, you have never misled me, nor have you in jealousy attempted to fool me.” Rayyan’s words were muffled, and the grief in them made Khou’s heart shudder. “Therefore, I must bring my wife before me and ask this of her myself. Ai!”

The Caliph’s young vizier scurried out from where he’d been discreetly hiding in a corner of the room, his expression mournful. “Must I, Rayyan?” In Aizah’s heart he knew the inevitable result of such questioning, and knew that it would bring nothing but pain to the kingdom, but more importantly, to Rayyan. Ai had suspected that such a thing was happening, but he’d turned a blind eye to it in the face of Rayyan’s boundless enthusiasm for his wife. Ai felt no joy at all to learn that he’d been right.

“You must. Bring her, and if you can find her...her lover, bring him here too.”

Ai left the siblings and their tears and trudged away from the Caliph’s chambers, through the maze of collonaded passageways that led to the forbidden part of the palace in which the wife and her handmaidens slept.

At the doors to the Calipha’s quarters, the handmaidens blocked Ai’s way. “The Calipha Mujha is indisposed. She is impure,” they hinted delicately, “you are not to come near her.”

Ai frowned. According to certain charts he kept himself, the Calipha wouldn’t be ‘impure’ for another five days. He kept these records (and many others) because they would come in handy to Rayyan, as invasive as it seemed. Lately, however, the Calipha had been keeping herself more and more in her rooms.

“I will enter,” Ai said with great firmness, and knowing the vizier’s power, the women reluctantly gave way.

Ai reached the closed doors to Mujha’s innermost chambers and paused, because with a sinking feeling he could distinguish voices from within. He heard the Calipha’s voice, and along with it the low voice of a man, despite the distressed twitters of the handmaidens around him.

A clear and sudden anger burnt through him, and before Ai could think twice about it, he’d drawn the sword at his waist. This woman was defiling… no, that wasn’t right. No. Ai didn’t care about purity or faithfulness or even duty. He simply cared that this woman was hurting the man that he loved.

Ai kicked open the doors to the innermost chamber. Mujha’s voice rang out in a yell, and she swiftly threw a blanket over her unclothed body and face. “You dare disturb the private chamber of the Calipha, even you, Vizier?”

Under the bed, Ai could see a bearded face, glancing out with something akin to terror.

Ai stared calmly at the Calipha, twirling his sword to slide it into his belt sheath again. “I would kill you both before speaking to you, but the Caliph told me that he must first meet with you. It is he who will decide your fate, even though I wish I could spare him the agony.”

Rayyan would decide upon death, Ai knew, and smiled with a certain amount of grim joy to know that soon this woman would be lying as discarded as a spoiled hyde somewhere far from the palace.

The man hiding under the bed suddenly rolled out from beneath it, lunging for Ai, clearly assuming that such a slender young man would be no great adversary. A moment later the man was pinned with a knife through the shoulder, screaming and clutching the sharp blade as he writhed on the floor.

The Calipha fainted dead away.

~

The penalty, sadly, was not death.

In a broken voice Rayyan sentenced her to a lifetime of exile with her lover. The fate was unprecedented in the Caliphate, and Ai felt it was much, much too lenient. 

The next day, there were disgruntled murmurs from the men of court that their wives would be tempted to cheat on them now, with the former Calipha as their example.

Soon enough their voices were silenced.

“Bring me a woman,” Rayyan said to Ai, the very evening that his former wife and her lover were escorted from the kingdom.

“A...new bride?”

“Yes. For a night.”

Ai stared at him. The Caliph’s hair was as red as cinnamon as it caught the sunset glow from the window. His face was hidden by his bright hair, but his tone was completely lifeless.

“Why have a bride for just a night?” Ai asked, feeling a deep sadness settle into his stomach. “Are you joking with me, Rayyan?”

“No. By morning, before she can be unfaithful to me, I will simply have her killed.”

“WHAT?”

The eyes that turned to meet his were as dead and inexorable as a desert jackal's. “I will not say it again. Bring me a new bride.”

The words broke Ai’s heart into a thousand and one pieces.


	2. The Calipha and the orange seller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a noble lady meets a seller of oranges, and MikoGou happens. 
> 
> Also, we learn the fate of Rayyan's wives, all seven-hundred and thirty (so far) of them.

Miyaz El-Amin stood with his arms crossed on the packed earth of the souk, surrounded by panniers upon panniers of his family’s oranges. His mind seemed a thousand miles away, judging by the abstract look upon his face, but in reality he was aware of every movement happening around the edge of his domain. A woman haggled with his salesman; she’d get a fair price, but Mikoshiba didn’t mind. She was a regular, and always bragged of the quality of El-Amin oranges to everyone she knew.

Behind him, Mikoshiba knew there were three ragamuffins about to steal an orange each from the panniers. These he ignored. His first year in Marrakech had made him compassionate; he’d once stolen oranges too, and remembered how sweet their flavor was to a long-empty stomach.

In front of him… In front of him there was a woman of high status walking with a tiny retinue made up of just one servant. It was difficult to tell who she was, for her gown was modest, and her veil left everything covered but her eyes. Still, something about the way she stared around her, and the way the short young man that she walked with scrambled to fulfil her every desire, made Mikoshiba wonder what sort of power she held. She sidled closer and closer to the El-Amin stall, and Mikoshiba waited with the patience born of a true merchant for her to walk close enough to speak to her.

“O noble lady and servant of this noble lady, have you come to try the finest oranges in the city of marvelous oranges?” Mikoshiba’s tone was friendly and a tiny bit humorous, and he stepped to the edge of the panniers to address these two.

Immediately the short young man stepped in front of the woman, clearing his throat. “Ah -- yes -- if you don’t mind, we’d like to buy a sack worth of these. Ca -- er, I mean … Khou, I hear that El-Amin’s oranges are renown even in your city.”

“Ah, are you visiting our city today? If you don’t mind, what town are you from?” It was rude to look a woman in the eye, but Mikoshiba stooped to pick up an orange, making short work of peeling it, and handed a slice of it to the young man. “For the lady, if she would try my oranges for herself.”

“These oranges are yours?” The young man blinked, staring at him. “Ah -- my information must be wrong, then. I heard that Hassan El-Amin was advanced in years.”

The woman reached out a hand to grasp the pieces of orange, her eyes still downcast. Mikoshiba was caught by the sight of her hand. Delicate and finely boned, it had the fine nails of a lady of wealth, although there was no marriage band to mark that she belonged to anyone yet.

The orange disappeared into a dark sleeve, and the dark sleeve disappeared behind a veil. A moment later, the woman let out what sounded like a purr of approval. “Mmh, it IS a good orange! Hurry and get a lot, okay? I hope … I hope it cheers _him_ up.” 

Mikoshiba smiled to catch the voice, light yet melodious, and clearly cultured.

“I am glad that you like our oranges, lady.” Mikoshiba turned to look at her, and despite all rules to the contrary, for a moment their eyes met. The lady averted her gaze immediately, but it was too late. 

Mikoshiba’s expression was already awash with astonishment. “Red…”

“Ah -- yes -- sir -- those oranges?” The young man tried his best to get in the way again, but Mikoshiba calmly stepped around him, looking directly at the woman again. 

“Yes, I’ll gladly get those in a moment,” Mikoshiba said courteously. “But lady -- forgive my astonishment at the color of your eyes. You see, they match my hair.”

That bought him another look, and this time, the lady did not drop her gaze, but instead tilted her head. “Your hair?”

Slowly, in the same way he’d gentle a balking donkey, he held her gaze and talked calmly as he reached up to undo the tie to his shemagh. “Ah, you see, although I have the honor to call the late Hassan El-Amin my father, I am not of his blood but an adopted son. I come from far away, and for some reason,” he slid the shemagh off his head, “the color of my hair is as unique as the color of your eyes.”

Mikoshiba wanted to add a few superlatives, like _beautiful_ or _incomparable_ to his description of the lady’s eyes, but that would not befit a merchant or a lady of good breeding, and the little guy with her looked dangerous (or at least, deeply annoying).

He’d gotten her attention anyway. The lady blinked up at the red hair that spilled uncut over his shoulders, and she even took half a step closer.

“Lady --” the little man beside her sighed, reaching out to catch her sleeve. Mikoshiba felt that this servant must be close to her, to touch her so intimately.

Mikoshiba gave her his brightest smile. “I am Miyaz El-Amin, and since my father’s passing this past year, I am the heir to this kingdom of oranges. To my golden wealth you are welcome anytime, lady.” Mikoshiba’s widespread arms encompassed the panniers around him, extravagant and humorous both at once. He was proud of his family’s business, but he knew that sometimes it looked like nothing but fruit sitting in sand.

The lady chuckled, however, and met his eyes again briefly. “I am pleased that you have continued your father’s business. But now, those oranges?”

Mikoshiba laughed again, clapping his hands to catch the attention of a salesman, and telling him to fill the order. “Do you have a donkey, or shall we carry this to your abode?”

“Ah -- please deliver these to the palace,” the young man said in a soft voice, leaning close to Mikoshiba. “The kitchen entrance. The servants there will receive the fruit.”

Oh. OH. Mikoshiba suddenly understood, and swiftly dropped to his knees, bowing his head. “Ah -- lady -- forgive my impertinence -- I did not realize --”

“Stand up, idiot!” The lady said, blinking down in evident annoyance. “Do you think that if I wanted to be exposed, I’d come out here dressed like this, with just Aizah as my retinue?”

Oops. Mikoshiba coughed and pretended to straighten his foot cloth, standing again. This time, he blushed and kept his eyes averted. “Calipha Khou?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. But -- I’m glad that you didn’t recognize me.”

“It’s strange,” Mikoshiba mused, his eyes still downcast, “I’ve heard much about the Calipha -- your beauty, although none have seen it but your brother, your kindness, your grace...but truly, I believe it now.”

“How can you tell, though?” The Calipha’s voice was genuinely curious. “Would you take someone’s word? I always go about covered, as I should, but it means that nobody knows what I truly look like.”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” Mikoshiba admitted. “Perhaps you look like a donkey, but anyone who’d say as much, you simply put to death?” He grinned at her again, but then heard the hiss of a drawn sword and the gasp of the little man beside her.

“Would you insult --”

“Oh, Ai, stop that. He was teasing me just like Rayyan does, and he meant no harm.”

“He should not speak so familiarly to you!”

“He’s not from here, is he? He doesn’t know.”

Mikoshiba did know, but he nodded again, meeting the lady’s eyes and giving her the tiniest wink.

He was rewarded by another chuckle. “I expect you to deliver this yourself, tonight. I’ll be there to receive my oranges.”

“Lady --” the little man said warningly, only to be rapped on the head with her knuckle.

“Quiet, Ai. You’ll be there too, just in case you’re all worried me or whatever.”

For some reason, the spirited lady’s words set Mikoshiba’s heart to fluttering. “I’ll be there later,” he said, leaning down to smile at her again. When she met his eyes this time, he could tell that she was blushing, all the way up to the bridge of her nose.

Abruptly she turned. “Come, Ai. We still need cardamon and ink.”

Glaring at Mikoshiba, the young man reluctantly turned to trot after her, his voice exasperated. “Lady, you will NOT be meeting him at the gate like some --”

Mikoshiba couldn’t wait to see her again. He wound his shemagh up over his head, staring at her back as she headed toward the spice souks. The Calipha -- he’d conversed with her, and if her personality was any indication, she was _adorable_.

“I leave you for two years and return to find you flirting with the Calipha of Fez.”

The statement, made in a flat, unexcited tone, made Mikoshiba whirl around. Standing behind him, dark hair uncovered and robes as brief as possible, was Haruka.

“When did you return, brother? I would’ve gone to meet any ship --” Mikoshiba stepped close, tugging Haruka into a hug and kissing each cheek. _“Okaeri, Nanase.”_

_”Tadaima, Mikoshiba.”_

They clung to each other for a second, and Mikoshiba felt their long history together quiet his soul. The one man who knew every part of his past was back.

“The ship arrived with the dawn tide. I was here before you this morning, but then I found Sa’id in the market and sat with him. It’s been two years, but he’s the same.”

“You.” Mikoshiba felt speechless, looking Haruka up and down to see what had changed. Haruka was taller, but still a good handspan shorter than Mikoshiba. He was dressed in the Persian fashion, and his hair, still so black that it shone blue, was cut close to his head. “You look weird. Is this how people look in Baghdad nowadays?” 

“Yes. You look like a country hick.” Smiling the tiniest bit, Haruka hugged him again.

“But come with me -- let’s get tea and a smoke and talk.”

Mikoshiba gave orders to his salesmen to keep shop while he took a break, and turned to lead Haruka down the long, narrow alleyways to the tea shops that lined the streets nearest to the residential quarters. He stepped into his favorite, a comfortably furnished one with thick rugs and plush pillows, and flopped down at a low table.

Soon they had thick mint tea flavored with honey, and a hookah with two long spouts between them.

“You first.”

Haruka obliged him by taking a draw, and Mikoshiba smiled a little fondly to remember the first time Hassan had taught them to smoke. “Remember how we coughed our lungs out?”

“Remember how I never liked it?”

“You like it now, right? Must come of being a student.”

Haruka nodded, but his face fell. “I did not hear of father’s death until he was long buried. I am sorry I did not return sooner.”

“He told me he’d disinherit me if I interrupted your studies. Are you done now?”

Haruka looked up at him, eyes flashing with irritation. “I would have come anyway. But I understand. Yes, I’m done. I’ve returned for good, now. I will speak to the lawyer’s guild tomorrow.”

The spoke for a while of Baghdad, and the great library there, and Haruka fell into his storyteller’s cadence to convey just the right feeling of the streets and the great city and the quiet sanctity of the library to his brother. 

At the end of the tale, Mikoshiba heaved a happy sigh. “It’s been too long since I’ve heard your stories. You’ll live at home, I hope. You can have our room; I’ve moved into father’s.”

“As befits the heir.” Haruka gave Mikoshiba a tiny smile and nodded. “Will you build me a pool?”

“A what?”

“A pool --” And then, Haruka launched into the most loving description of a strange thing that Mikoshiba had ever heard. “It’s a building that houses water, almost like a lake that has been invited to stay in a ceramic bowl the size of a room.” His eyes glowed. “In this room, you may immerse yourself completely as if in the ocean, but the water is fresh and pure.”

Mikoshiba gaped. To a desert-dweller, this sounded ridiculous and impossible. “Only the Caliph would have a room such as that. It would bankrupt us to buy that much water. Did you become an idiot when you studied in Baghdad?”

“No...no. But I did find what I loved more than almost anything.” For a moment Haruka’s eyes were far away, and Mikoshiba rubbed his head. Haruka was clearly thinking about that _pool_.

“You. Seriously.” Mikoshiba drank his tea, now a comfortable temperature. “Listen. We’re men, so we have little to worry about, but I must tell you this news: our Caliph has spent the last two years taking a different bride every night. In the morning, the bride disappears. Our town is full of the mourning families of these women, and no one knows when he will cease.”

“The women. Does he kill them?”

“Nobody knows. I only know that it’s been impossible for me to find a wife.” Mikoshiba sighed. “Did you meet anyone in Baghdad that I should know about? As the head of the family now, I guess I need to marry you off too.”

Haruka’s eyes met his for a moment, and Mikoshiba couldn’t read the expression in them.

“I met no one there that I wanted to marry. Unless you count --”

“Uh oh. Don’t you dare say ‘pool’ again.”

“-- The most luxurious waterfall that I'd ever seen, while climbing in the Kurdish hills.”

Mikoshiba’s forehead hit the table. “I see. I see what I have to deal with. How did father handle you? I guess he sent you pretty far away, you idiot.”

Finally, Haruka laughed.

~

“Don’t get killed,” Haruka told Mikoshiba as he headed out the gate with an orange-laden donkey later that evening.

“But what a way to go,” Mikoshiba chuckled in reply, and before too much longer he was winding his way through the town to the grand palace that lay near the ocean to the north. In the last light, the high domes of the palace stood out against the purple sky like an impossible dream, and Mikoshiba felt strangely small. What was he doing again? Meeting the Calipha? Was he an IDIOT?

When he brought his donkey to the kitchen gate (still grander than their own main gate at home), he stood and waited uncertainly. Nobody came for a long while, but still he bowed his head and waited.

Finally, when it was full dark and the stars were bright in the moonless sky, a bundled shape came to the gate. “Hey, sorry.” Khou was out of breath. “It was impossible to get away from Ai until just now. Please, come in -- thanks for the oranges.”

Mikoshiba hesitated still, staring at her. “If I am with you alone, lady, I might...get put to death. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay on this side of the gate and you stay on that side.”

“Hmph,” Khou said, but then reluctantly nodded. “At least put the oranges in here?”

There was nothing else to do but obey, and Mikoshiba carried the oranges to a wheelbarrow standing nearby.

“The orange you gave me earlier was so good,” Khou said happily, “that I hoped it would bring some brightness to my brother.”

“Ah -- the Caliph.” Mikoshiba slipped to the other side of the gate again, shutting it behind him and staring at Khou through the bars. “I have heard that he is, um, a little unhappy right now.”

“He’s ridiculous.” Mikoshiba could hear Khou’s pout through her words. “But at least he’s not a murderer. He marries a new woman every night, actually marries her, but in the morning he has her escorted out to a different palace. It’s been two years of this, and we’ve filled my whole palace at Fez with his wives, and another one at the coast… they’re jealous, annoying, and expensive, too!”

“He’s got over seven hundred wives?” Mikoshiba couldn't keep the incredulity out of his tone.

“And he keeps going! He doesn’t even… I don’t know how to say this politely, he doesn’t even do anything to them that a husband would do. He simply gets married, eats a meal, rests beside her, and sends her off. He says that he hasn’t met one yet that can keep his attention for more than a night.”

“Why not wait until he meets the right one before getting married?” Mikoshiba felt perplexed, but more than a little relieved that the women were not lying in a ditch somewhere, rotting.

“He’s a complete fool?”

“Heh, if it’s an interesting person he wants, he should meet my brother.”

Khou stared at him in silence for a moment, and Mikoshiba realized what he’d just said. “Ah -- I mean, my brother is a storyteller. He can keep people ensorcelled for hours. I just thought that if your brother met him, he might find his boredom cured. But … Haruka would be nobody’s wife.”

“Could we...disguise him as a woman?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mikoshiba heard the excitement in Khou’s tone and winced. Ugh, he’d opened his mouth and something idiotic emerged from it. “It was just an idle thought. We should not play with danger in that way -- especially with my brother. I would not put him in danger for any reason…”

“But my brother is so unhappy.” Khou’s tone was so honestly sad that Mikoshiba’s heart ached for her.

“I understand,” he said. “Well...let me think on it? I would not endanger my brother without his advice and consent.”

“Still, it’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. Go now -- go quickly! Tomorrow night I will come to this gate for more oranges, and meet you again.”

Suddenly from the palace there came the sound of men calling Khou’s name.

“Calipha -- noble lady -- KHOU --”

“See you tomorrow.”

The dark bundle vanished from Mikoshiba’s sight. Blinking after her, he shook his head, resting his hand against his donkey’s neck.

“What have I gotten myself into? No, it’s okay, I can answer that one myself.”

~


	3. The intruder in the pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayyan (Rin) and Haruka finally meet.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that social climbers in want of a husband would stop at nothing to get one, even risking the possibility of death. Rayyan had felt certain that the vague rumor about the fate of his wives would weed out at least a few of the shallower women, but this proved to not be the case at all. In fact, seven hundred and thirty women later, there were no lack of women to fill the empty spot in his bedchamber every night.

It made Rayyan feel even worse about women than he already had. The women ranged from shy to haughty to vapid to learned, but there was always something vaguely wrong with each one of them; perhaps the same thing that was wrong with his first and best wife -- they didn’t love him. In fact, tonight’s wife had disappointed Rayyan so greatly (she’d forced the issue of sex, among other things) that he’d ended up fleeing his own sleeping chamber. Luckily he had an entire palace at his disposal, and let his feet take him wherever they would.

Strolling through the interlinked courtyards of his palace, Rayyan saw the pale sliver of a new moon peek out at him through the carved trellises of the roof. The night was beautiful, and its beauty hurt. How dare the night be so beautiful when he couldn’t be with the woman he still loved? Mujha… He wondered where she was. The last he’d seen of her face, it was streaked in tears, but her eyes were full of a deep gratefulness. She’d even thanked him, first for sparing her life, and second, for letting her remain with her man.

It hurt. Rayyan’s hand fisted in the soft fabric of his cotton robe, and he let out a shuddering breath. At best, each night’s new woman kept him from thinking about _her_. Maybe he should’ve allowed this woman to touch his body. What was her name again? He’d simply been calling her _731_. Maybe she would’ve driven away the haunting memory of Mujha’s eyes…

But just then, as Rayyan’s feet took him past the open-air room that housed his pool, he heard a strange noise.

It sounded very much like a splash, but it couldn’t be. Rayyan was the only one who swam in that pool. His sister was of course unable to swim in such a public room, and none of the servants were allowed to. He paused, frowning, and stepped past the columns onto the tiled floor. The far end of the room was open to the ocean, and the gate beyond that led to the sand was standing open.

Indeed, there was a shadow in the water, gliding so swiftly and surely that Rayyan wondered if it was a sea creature. The shadow didn’t even pause at the far end of the pool, but immediately ducked and turned at the wall, swimming toward him with clean strokes that barely troubled the water.

Rayyan was so preoccupied by this that his feet took him to the edge of the pool, where he watched, arms crossed, for the figure to surface.

As soon as the swimmer touched the wall, his head rose above the water, and the droplets of water that flew from his hair were caught by the torchlight. His face remained in shadow.

“You’re in my pool,” Rayyan said, staring down at the intruder. It was a man, that much was certain from the naked torso, but his body seemed lithe and slighter than the men Rayyan was used to.

“I know.” The answer was so calm that Rayyan blinked.

“Then you know that I could put you to death for this.”

The figure in the pool simply snorted. “If you’re so concerned about who uses your pool, why are you standing there? Come in and swim.”

Rayyan gasped, wondering how long it had been since someone had spoken to him in this manner. Perhaps Khou was the last one -- but a man of unknown origin, never. “Who are you?”

“Catch up with me and I’ll tell you.”

Rayyan hesitated, pondering that he should call the guards, but a second later the figure in the water sprang away from the wall. Rayyan couldn’t ignore such an obvious challenge, and after hastily shucking off his clothing, dove in and swam forward as hard as he could.

At the far wall, Rayyan saw that the other man had not paused but turned, so he did as well, making up for lost time by shifting to a stroke that he used in the ocean. Fighting waves toward the shore, both arms rising at once, body bending in the middle… it got his blood high and his heart racing. The water had honestly never felt better. Rayyan had never considered competing at such a thing as this, but suddenly it was all he wanted to do. At the end of the pool he touched the wall, only to raise his head and see that the other man was treading water, watching him calmly.

“You won!”

“Well, yes.”

Rayyan made a face, and then said, “Again!” 

The other man smiled just a little and hefted himself out of the water. Rayyan couldn’t help but stare. Naked and dripping in the moonlight, Rayyan could see that every part of this man was made of long, lean muscle, as if he’d been born to cut through the water. Then the man turned and held out his hand, face once again hidden.

Hesitating a moment, Rayyan accepted the aid, allowing the other man to assist him from the pool.

“You won’t win this time either.”

“Teach me how you turn at the other end,” Rayyan demanded, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

“Turn a somersault in the water just as your fingers graze the wall. Push the wall with your legs.”

“Your accent is strange,” Rayyan noted. “And -- you look like no man that I’ve ever seen. Tell me who you are.”

“You didn’t win the race.”

“This is my palace,” Rayyan pointed out, “And somehow I am allowing you to use my pool. Did you simply walk in from the beach? Ah, never mind. What is your name?”

“... It is Haruka.”

“Eh? Haroun?”

“Ha-ru-ka. I know who you are, though. You are the Caliph, Rin.”

“Ray-yan.”

“Rin.”

Rayyan huffed out a breath of sheer annoyance at having met such a frustrating man. “Or you can call me ‘my lord.’ Or perhaps ‘prince’ is a better term...”

“I will call you Rin, and you man call me Haruka,” the other man announced calmly. “Now, are we going to swim or not?”

They swam, Haruka perfecting Rayyan’s form until the sliver of the moon set and the edges of the sky turned pink with dawn.

As the sun rose, Rayyan’s muscles ached, and he sprawled naked on one of the couches near the pool and gasped from the unaccustomed exercise.

Haruka sat nearby, half-clad in white pants that hung low on his hips. Rayyan had never been so aware of someone else’s body before, partly because Haruka’s body was like a curious dream to him.

“Stand for me. Turn to face me.”

Haruka hesitated, but obviously remembered that Rayyan was the owner of the pool, so he did as he was bid.

“You are not from my country.” Rayyan kept his feelings hidden behind his best impassive face as he stared at the delicate shape before him, eyes traveling down muscles to the dip of hip and taut stomach. His fingers twitched, and for the first time in a long time, he wanted to _touch_ someone.

Haruka bowed his head to hide his expression. “I was a child. My fishing boat was lost at sea, so far away from here that you would not believe the distance. My friend and I were adrift upon scraps of wood when a ship passed that caught us from the water. I would say, ‘rescued,’ but it was a slaving ship…”

“You are a slave?” Rayyan hoped so. It would be easy enough to buy him, if he was.

“No longer.” Haruka’s eyes flashed as he looked at Rayyan. “After a year as a slave, my father bought my friend and me, and taught us the daily prayers. As you know, in Morocco, no man of the faith can be a slave. He adopted us as his children.”

“Oh.” Rayyan was unaccountably disappointed, even more so when Haruka scooped up his robe and slid into it as he walked toward the gate to the beach. “Will you return tomorrow night?”

“Perhaps. Goodbye, Rin.”

“...Goodbye, Harou...Haru.” Rayyan compromised on the name, cutting off the end of it. “Don’t say perhaps. Come to meet me here. I will wait for you.”

Haruka didn’t answer, leaving Rayyan to flop back against the couch, wondering to himself about the strange and oddly exciting night. Who was that beautiful man, and would Rayyan ever see him again?

~

The tall man waiting at the orchard gate had a worried expression on his face. It turned into a stern one the second Haruka’s donkey plodded up to him.

“You were out all night, and this morning, nobody could find you. Don’t tell me you’ve found a woman.”

“ _Tadaima, Mikoshiba_. No. But I found a --”

Mikoshiba noticed the wetness of Haruka’s hair, and his palm hit his face. “ _Okaeri, Nanase_ , wait -- don’t tell me you found a _pool_.”

“-- a pool.”


	4. The story of the fisherman's son

“Wait. Go back to the beginning and say all of that again,” Haruka said, staring at the piles of soft fabric in front of him. Some of the finely woven cloth was _purple_ , but at least some was also black. The beads were a little excessive, though, especially around the head cloth.

“Please,” the veiled woman pleaded from her position near Mikoshiba. “Miyaz said that you’d at least consider it.”

Aizah, on the other side of her, twitched again. “Haroun doesn’t want to, it’s plain to me. Let’s just let this plan go, Khou. I don’t think you’ve thought it through, and Rayyan is going to scream at me so loudly AFTER he kills everyone.”

“My brother hasn’t killed anyone yet,” Khou objected. “Not even the man who stole his wife, and you’d imagine that he’d be the first person to go, right? Rayyan is all bluster and death and murder, but so far he’s never actually done it.”

“Well, that makes me feel a bit better,” Mikoshiba admitted. He was squatting near the other three, eyeing the piles of cloth just as suspiciously. “I would do a lot for you, Calipha, but I’m not sure I’d go so far as to get my brother imprisoned.”

“If it’s for the Caliph, I’ll do it,” Haruka announced calmly.

Three voices, only one of them joyful, chorused, “What?!”

“If it’s to meet the Caliph, I said I’ll go.” Haruka shrugged, an elaborate gesture that made his whole body look strangely boneless, his storyteller’s art.

“But — it’s against the Qu’ranic laws to dress in a woman’s garb,” Mikoshiba said, picking up the cloth and frowning. “Surely if he simply goes as himself…”

“There’s no way that my brother would break his nightly wedding vow with number 732,” Khou said, making the most pleading expression that she could through her veil. She let her eyes slide sideways to meet Mikoshiba’s, and she saw him blush just a little. “And surely the law would agree that it’s better to assist my brother in rectifying his behavior, no matter how.”

Haruka shrugged again. “It’s just a costume. I’ll put it on.”

Aizah shook his head and kept shaking it. “I won’t agree to this unless Haroun can fool _me_. Go put on the outfit.” The short man’s expression was just a bit grim, as if he could see a reprimand descending upon his head in the near future. “...I bet he’ll make me clean his room again,” he muttered. “It was always my least favorite chore.”

“You used to be a servant before you became a vizier?” Mikoshiba asked.

“Ah, yes, kind of. I grew up with Khou and Rayyan, and the three of us have always been together.”

“He’s the son of one of my father’s lesser wives, but he looks nothing like father,” Khou added.

“I wasn’t a vizier until Rayyan saw fit to promote me, after father drown at sea.” Ai’s eyes began to glow with a slightly worshipful look, and Khou rolled her eyes. “Rayyan is truly the kindest half-brother alive, which is why I don’t mind so much when he —“

“Yeah, this could go on for a while, but let’s get moving, shall we?” Khou interrupted. “Haroun, please put on these clothes…” She handed everything to him. “Er, you probably don’t know how, do you?”

Haruka turned and gave her a slighly amused look. “I know how.”

“Do I want to know how you know how?” Mikoshiba asked, frowning.

“I’m a storyteller. It’s what we do.” Haruka disappeared into a tent with the pile of clothing, and in less time than anyone thought possible, a slight, girlish woman emerged, completely covered from head to toe in cloth of shimmering black and purple. She was all covered save for her dark eyes, which were shyly downcast.

Mikoshiba found himself gaping and had to turn away to hide his expression. It definitely wasn’t good to ogle his adopted brother, especially in front of the girl he was courting.

Aizah was similarly flustered, but did nothing to hide it. Running forward, he circled Haruka several times, examining the flow of cloth, his stance, his expression.

“Haroun! You really did it, you became a woman!”

“Don’t call me Haroun. Did you doubt me?” Haruka said, and somehow his voice was lighter too, pitched higher and more melodiously than usual.

“You really gotta stop that,” Mikoshiba said, brows furrowing. “It’s making me confused.”

“See?” Khou jumped up and down excitedly, gripping Ai’s sleeve. “It’s even confusing his brother! Rayyan will buy it, especially because he never actually undresses —“

“That is saying too much!” Ai clapped his hands over his ears. “But still, once we get this ‘lady’ in, what are we hoping to gain from it?”

“I’ll keep him occupied,” Haruka said, his voice dead certain. “So that he no longer needs another wife.”

Mikoshiba heard the calm confidence in Haruka’s tone and edged nearer to his brother. “ _Nanase, ii ka?_ Are you sure, my brother? You will be marrying someone who, if you anger him, could very well kill you. And how do you plan to keep your gender hidden after you…uh…occupy his time?”

“I am sure of my decision. I’ll cross that road when I come to it. I do not yet have an occupation, so ‘Calipha’ is as good as any.”

Mikoshiba sighed, shaking his head. “I will at least be in the palace with you, tonight. If there is trouble, I will assist you in any way I can.”

Even Aizah was looking a bit excited now, a faint bit of hope emerging through the doubt in his expression. “Do you really think…you could help make Rayyan feel better?”

Haruka opened his mouth to reply, _I think I already have_ , but just then a servant came rushing up. 

“Aizah! You are wanted, the Caliph is looking for someone…”

“We’ll meet you in a few hours,” Ai said. “Come in the front gate. You’ll be welcomed with all the usual ceremony of a … a new bride.” 

With one last glance over his shoulder, Aiyaz headed off toward the palace with Khou firmly in tow.

“I’ll see you tonight too, Miyaz El-Amin,” Khou said, her eyes smiling.

“I’ll see you!” Mikoshiba’s wave was enthusiastic, long after she’d stopped looking.

“Hmm,” Haruka said, once they were alone. “I get it.”

“You get what?” Mikoshiba said, still staring after the retreating figure.

“-- That you will soon have more than an orange grove in your care.”

Mikoshiba turned pink. “Quiet! She’s so far above me that I can’t even imagine such a thing. But if I were able to, I’d give her my orange grove, and our father’s house, and all the donkeys in our pens. If I could…” 

“I’ve heard stranger tales,” Haruka said. “You should go for it.”

Mikoshiba reached sideways to smack Haruka’s shoulder, but hesitated, flushing deeper. “And you, you should change. It’s the weirdest thing in the world to talk to you like this!”

~

“I want to get my wedding done early today, I have more important things to do,” Rin announced as he restlessly prowled the room. “I’ve found a swimming teacher. Or at least, I’d like to find him again.”

“Swimming…”

“Teacher?” Ai’s voice was as puzzled as Khou’s. 

“Yes, he came last night and taught me until dawn. Anyway. Is 731 gone? I’d like 732 to be here in the next several moments, it would be best to get this over with. I don’t want her to keep me from the pool for too long.”

“Ahhh — uh — 732. About that. You might know her family, it’s the El-Amin of the orange groves. She lives a donkey’s walk from town, so she cannot be here for a few hours.”

“Ah. Then, 733 is fine. We’ll simply switch the order for --”

“That won’t be possible,” Ai said, with just a little more firmness in his tone than usual. “Tell me more about this swimming teacher -- who was he, and why was I not aware of this?”

“He was an intruder, simply here to use the pool,” Rayyan said, shrugging. “I would’ve had him thrown out, but his intent was not harmful. Instead, he was of great service to me. You need to find him -- he might be back tonight, but if not, we will fetch him here.”

“We’ll discuss that later, but first, show me what you’ve learned,” Ai said, frowning further, gripping Rayyan’s arm to tug him toward the pool. 

Khou breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Ai’s wink as he pulled Rayyan from the room. He’d keep Rayyan occupied until the wedding. Then, Haroun the storyteller could handle the rest. … Or so Khou hoped.

~

It was late, very late. In fact, it was almost dawn before Aizah came and told him that his bride was ready.

Rayyan sat in his favorite room, one with wide doors that opened out to the sea. He stared out of the open doors at the moon, now a bit more than a sliver, as it hung near the horizon. He wondered if Haroun had gone to the pool without him, and cursed his own decision to wait for this bride. In truth, Rayyan was a bit curious about her. The way that Khou and Aizah spoke of her seemed a bit different from the usual sheer annoyance, and it piqued his interest.

The room was full of candles floating in basins of water, and Rayyan sat on one of the many soft cushions strewn about the thick rugs. A Qu’ran was open before him, to the auspicious passages for marriage. He’d done this so many times it was second nature, and every time his heart had just a tiny bit of hope that he’d found the right one.

This bride looked like all the rest as she entered the room alone. She did not hesitate, however, nor did she behave shyly. She walked well, her movements fluid as she came forward in her belted wedding kaftan of purple and black. Her veil hid all of her face but her eyes, which were downcast.

So this was 732. Rayyan realized a moment later that somehow, Ai had forgotten to tell Rayyan the lady’s name, only that she was the daughter of El-Amin.

“O daughter of El-Amin, what is your name?”

Instead of telling him, the woman laughed. “That will cost you a minute of time past dawn.”

Rayyan tilted his head, thinking that the woman’s voice was soft, although teasing. He didn’t mind it. “One extra minute with me, simply for your name?”

“My name is the least interesting thing about me,” Haruka said, keeping his voice light. “I have heard tales of you, O Caliph. And I wonder, what will my fate be, when the sun touches the horizon?”

Rayyan laughed -- none of the women had dared ask him that question. “You’ll see when morning comes,” he said. “But now, shall we wed?” He held out his hand, palm up.

The woman took it with no hesitation at all, and Rayyan noticed that her hand was strange. It was small and soft, as it should be, but also lean...and there were odd calluses.

“Will it cost me another minute to ask you more questions?”

“Yes. One for each question.” Haruka’s eyes glinted with amusement, but at the same time he felt his heart beating a little faster.He’d agreed to this simply because it was interesting and he seemed to get along with the Caliph, but the way that Rayyan was holding his hand made him feel pinned to the spot. 

“Why does a woman have the hand of a scholar?”

Oops. Haruka turned his hand over in Rayyan’s, letting the other man’s hand cup his. He stared down at the callus where quill and stylus had worn ridges in his fingers. 

“My father sent me to the library at Baghdad. The men there saw fit to train me.”

This was a first. A woman who was a scholar… Rayyan tilted his head. “Train you in what?”

“Tales.”

“Simply that?”

Haruka snorted, and then realized he’d made a very unfeminine noise. “Humans wouldn’t know how to live without them.”

“You make them sound like laws.”

“They are laws. Laws of behavior. Hope. Love.”

It was Rayyan’s turn to snort. “I don’t believe you.”

“You have not yet heard one of my tales.”

They stared at each other, and Haruka noticed that Rayyan’s eyes were the same shade of ruby as his sister’s. He wondered if Khou’s hair, hidden beneath her garments, was as rich a red as this man’s. This made him chuckle very softly. What would the children look like, if Khou and Mikoshiba wed?

“You’re confident I would be swayed to believe you? Then… I would hear one of your tales, after we are wed.”

“Why marry me before you know whether I suit you?”

This question was also a first. The women were usually eager to get it over with so that they could claim the title, no matter that they’d be cast aside in the morning. 

The answer to that was both simple and complicated, and Rayyan felt a hint of irritation rise. “You don’t have to marry me. I’ll get 733 if you’re unwilling.”

“That was not my question.”

“If I answer, I can get one of my minutes back?”

Haruka shrugged his agreement, feeling amused by this game. Their hands were still joined, and Rayyan absently rubbed a circle in the middle of Haruka’s palm. It made Haruka feel strangely cold along his arms.

“I had a wife. She was unfaithful. I marry every night in the hopes that I will find her equal; seven hundred and thirty one wives later, I have not.”

“Ah, you see,” Haruka said, “This is where my tales would’ve proven useful to you. Had you listened, you would know that your quest is purposeless. You will never find another person quite like your first wife, for everyone is different. … But I think you might still find what you are looking for.”

“What am I looking for?” Rayyan asked, curious to know the woman’s answer, and then caught himself. “Aaah -- another minute!”

Haruka smiled. “I will answer you. But first, let me tell you a story.”

~

_Far from here, so far that your feet could not reach it if you walked a year, there lived a fisherman’s son. Have you ever fished, Caliph? Your hands say no; they are softer than mine. But if you have not fished, you have not lived! Or so the people of the town of Iwabi thought._

_This fisherman’s son was unique among all of the sons of fishermen, for he could not swim. His father tried valiantly to train him from birth, but no matter how he tried to teach him, and no matter what stroke, the child failed to learn. His father tried to teach him to float on his back, but the child sank. On his stomach, the child’s feet never left the sand. On his side, he turned circles and plummeted like a stone._

_As the years went on, the fisherman thought, surely this year I will find a way to teach my son! But every year brought a new setback, and every lesson ended with the father in despair._

_Finally there came a year in which the fisherman sat down beside his son on the long wall that overlooked their home port, and said, “O my son, I am sorely troubled. You are the son of a fisherman, yet you cannot come with me in my boat as it leaves with the evening tide, nor can you return with me at dawn with our nets full of fishes. For I would not risk your life in the open sea, a wave could sweep you away and you would be lost to me, because you cannot swim. What would you do, my son? How will you earn your livelihood, if you cannot fish?”_

_The fisherman’s son’s name was Rei. Rei bowed his head before his father and said, “Father, in all of these years that I have not joined you in a fishing boat, I have spent my time instead with the monks of the Buddhist temple --”_

“Buddhist? What’s that?” Interrupted Rayyan. 

“Ah, I was born in the town of which I speak, and it is the religion of my first father. Buddhism. I was baptised again when I became a … a daughter of Morocco.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

_” -- And I have learned many things from the ancient scrolls of calligraphy that they keep in their libraries. I learned that if I go to the island of skulls on the most auspicious night of the year, I may speak my wish to the ones who dwell there, and have my wish answered.”_

_“Son, I leave your fate in your own hands. I have tried my best every year since you were born, and failed to find an answer. Do as you see fit.”_

_So Rei went to the monks and calculated the most auspicious night of the year, and on that night, had his father take him to the island._

_The island was wrapped in a cold mist when Rei arrived. Rei wandered long to find just the right place in which to make his wish, and finally stumbled upon a sheltered cove between two arms of rock._

_He cupped his hands to his mouth so that his voice would reverberate, and shouted -- “I WISH TO SWIM!”_

~

“You’ve stopped talking,” Rayyan said, frowning. “Did anyone answer his call?”

“It is two minutes past dawn, Caliph. Time for you to dispose of me in the way you see fit.” Haruka sat with his head bowed. He smiled just a little, but it was hidden by his veil.

“...That seems unfair. Not only that, but I even missed --” 

“Missed what? Are you pouting?”

“No! It’s just that… well. We didn’t even get married. So, I guess tonight I’ll have to...have you back.” Rayyan said the words in a muffled voice as he flopped back onto his cushions.

“You are tired, Caliph.” Haruka hesitated a moment, and then scooted forward to be nearer Rayyan’s side. Gently he slid his fingers into the locks of red hair.

He was rewarded by a tiny, if still grumpy, smile.

“So are you. Lie beside me, bride, and we will sleep until we marry tonight.”


	5. An interlude with water

“It’s time to feed the donkeys!” Mikoshiba thought in a panic, pushing himself swiftly upright. The light from the open window had fallen across his face, and his body had responded as it always did.

The second Mikoshiba sat up, he realized that his donkeys were far away from him, and he was in someone else’s bed.

From the snoring, Mikoshiba realized that that someone was curled like a ball nearby. He glanced over to see a tousled head of short ash-grey locks almost hidden by a heap of blankets and pillows. The room was opulent compared to Mikoshiba’s, but it was also ridiculously messy. Looking around, it seemed as though the young man he’d slept near never threw anything away; in fact, it was a miracle that Mikoshiba had found his way from the door to the bed at all.

Careful not to awaken Aizah, Mikoshiba slid out of the high-piled bed and found his satchel of clothing balanced precariously on top of a stack of wooden boxes. He wondered whether he could find a bathing room somewhere close. Extricating himself carefully from Aizah’s room, he scratched the bare stretch of his stomach and hiked up his pajamas as he looked about.

He looked to the left and saw a long stretch of collonaded walkways interspersed by alcoves and gardens. He looked to the right and saw the same. Picking a direction at random, he walked...And walked, and walked… And finally stopped dead still, pondering that if he didn’t find a bathing room soon, he’d be forced to pee in one of the fountains.

As he was running through possible resolutions to his unhappy morning dilemma, he heard the light sound of women’s laughter nearby, on the other side of a long wall. They could surely help, he thought, and tried to find a door so that he could talk to them.

Apparently nobody in the castle believed in doors, but the wall was low enough and the corridors were open to the sky, so he shouldered his bag and hopped up to catch the top of it, hefting himself over and down to the other side.

The women were walking away from him, a group of four of them, all laughing and chattering as they headed toward a courtyard that seemed to house a pool large enough for all of them to bathe at once. The second Mikoshiba realized that he was probably somewhere he shouldn’t be, he also heard more women coming in his direction.

Without pausing to think, Mikoshiba’s feet raced him toward a screened alcove near the bathing room. Luck was with him, and he slid behind the screen just in time to watch the group of women pass by.

“Will you wash my hair for me this morning, Halima?”

“Of course, Khou.”

Mikoshiba sat back, heart pounding, wondering whether it was a slaying offense to watch the Calipha bathe. What could he do now? There were baskets of laundry sitting near the edge of the screens. Thinking he’d hide there until the women were gone, he stowed himself away amid the baskets, covering his head with dirty sheets.

He gritted his teeth. He still really, really, needed to pee.

To distract himself, his eyes wandered toward the gap in the screens again.

Displayed before him was a ridiculously lovely sight. The women of the household had removed their head coverings, and the ones in the water were bare to their very skin. It was like something from the illustrations that his friends at the market liked to pass around, based on a scroll from India called the _Kama Sutra_. But this was much more vivid, and much more beautiful. 

A second later he realized that the shock of dark auburn hair that emerged wet and dripping from the water had to be Khou.

Mikoshiba’s heart almost stopped as she turned in his direction, and although she was also unclothed, he could look nowhere but at her face and the long spill of hair. She was as bright as a rose in a field of lilies.

Red… Was it fate? Perhaps the djinn were toying with him, to put his perfect match so high above him that he’d never be able to reach her.

Her face was lovely too, every feature delicate and proportional. The hair framed those ruby-colored eyes in a way that did Mikoshiba in completely, and her bright smile made him realize that the prophet was right to protect women from the hungry gazes of men. At some level, his body registered the rest of her figure too, but it was secondary to the beauty of her expression.

Mikoshiba’s mind filled with poetry. There was something popular being declaimed in the souks lately, by the Persian named Rumi. 

_Whenever Beauty looks,_  
 _Love is also there;_  
 _Whenever beauty shows a rosy cheek_  
 _Love lights Her fire from that flame._

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” Mikoshiba said softly, miserably, to himself, and dropped his face to his knees, feeling every part of his skin rise as if a cool wind touched him. “I am the lord of oranges and donkeys...Besides, she is probably promised to a rich prince somewhere.”

Her hair was like his own, something in Mikoshiba’s heart whispered, surely, surely, that was fate.

~

Haruka’s nose woke up before the rest of him because it was itchy. When he cracked open his eyes, he realized that his entire face was itchy too, probably because he’d slept in his veil. It was amazing he hadn’t strangled himself in his sleep, he reflected, eyes opening wide enough to look at the room around him.

In the afternoon light, Rayyan’s room was tidy but bare, the floor lined with rich, plush rugs, and the walls with tapestries. There was not much else in the room but a low table and a bed, and the wide-open veranda doors let in the ocean light.

Perhaps it was the ocean view that made Haruka’s heart soften, or perhaps it was the sight of the Caliph beside him, but he realized that lying there made him feel strangely...happy.

Turning his head, Haruka could see a spill of hair falling over Rayyan’s cheek, glowing like burnished copper in the afternoon sun. Rayyan was on his side, and his arm… Haruka realized that his arm was slung casually over Haruka’s waist. His sleeping face was close enough that Haruka could see his eyelashes, long against Rayyan’s cheek, and a darker shade than his hair.

Asleep, Rayyan’s face lost some of the discontent and bitterness it had while awake, and the almost child-like peace of his expression caught at Haruka’s heart. Without thinking about it, he rolled to his side and let his fingers slide into Rayyan’s hair again.

“MMmmhh…” The little purr came from Rayyan’s throat, and his lashes began to flutter.

Haruka stilled his hand, realizing that if he woke Rayyan then, he’d lose his opportunity to steal away from the room to bathe and change.

...Then Haruka realized that since the pool was nearby, he might as well go swim… That decided him, and a moment later he’d extricated himself from Rayyan’s arm and was strolling down the walkway that led to the pool.

At the pool, Haruka had enough presence of mind to hide his pile of women’s clothing. He’d work out how he’d change back later, but for now, the water called. Diving in, he felt the cool welcoming embrace close around his body, and for a glorious moment he felt weightless.

Back and forth he went, gliding in the depths, smiling when he saw that the tile of the pool was carefully worked in blue ocean waves. When he finally surfaced, he was not surprised to see another figure sitting and watching him from the pool’s edge.

Rayyan held out a hand to help him out of the water. When Haruka rose, it was to see that Rayyan was blushing as he looked at him. Was Rayyan preoccupied by the sight of Haruka’s naked body? The thought made Haruka feel just a little intrigued.

“Rin.”

“Haru.”

 _Are you still sleepy?_ Haruka almost asked, and then realized that he was still two different people in Rayyan’s mind. 

“Are you ready to swim?” Haruka said, instead. “The water feels perfect today, like it was waiting for me.”

Rayyan’s blush spread deeper as he slid off his shirt and pants. “Were you waiting for me since last night? I had other matters to attend to, but I almost came here instead.”

Haruka wasn’t sure whether to feel annoyed or pleased that Rayyan seemed to prefer swimming to storytelling, but it didn’t matter. “I was not,” he said. Now they were both standing naked and near each other, and Haruka didn’t hide the fact that his eyes dropped slowly down Rayyan’s body to examine every inch. “Rin, you look like you swim every day.”

“I do. But I don’t know very much. Teach me more, Haru?” As if running from Haruka’s gaze, Rayyan turned and dove in. 

Haruka followed him, and the next few hours passed like a dream. 

They chased each other through the water, pausing to go over certain strokes, and for Haruka to correct Rayyan’s form. The Caliph loved races, and because he loved them, Haruka obliged even though he won every one.

Spitting with annoyance after losing his fifth challenge, Rayyan pulled himself from the water and dried off. “I will beat you. And when I do, you must promise me something.”

“Ah?” Haruka pulled himself from the water too, his mind far away. How was he going to make the switch from Haruka to the daughter of El-Amin? He’d better somehow sneak straight to Aizah’s room. They were all waiting to see if the plan worked, after all.

“If I win, you’ll stay with me, and swim with me every day.” Rayyan didn’t look at him, but let his eyes drop, his expression suddenly shy.

Haruka’s mouth fell open with surprise, but he collected himself after a moment. “Caliph. What are you doing tonight?”

“I am marrying my 732nd wife. Why do you ask?”

“Instead of marrying her, stay with me and swim instead.”

Rayyan hesitated. “... I would, but she and I have unfinished business. If we can settle that tonight, she’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“Rin. Wouldn’t you simply have another wife tomorrow night, and another after that?”

“What are you asking of me, Haru?”

“After this wife, if you stop marrying more women, I will stay with you whether or not you beat me at a race, and I will swim with you every day.” Haruka delivered his own challenge in an even voice, catching Rayyan’s gaze and holding it, but not backing down.

Rayyan looked troubled, running his hand through the wet locks of his hair. “I’ll consider it,” he said finally. “I will see you here tomorrow, and tell you then.”

~

Mikoshiba and Haruka sat slumped in two hastily cleared spaces of Aizah’s room floor, both looking exhausted.

“It worked! The plan worked!” Aizah said. “You are the first woman that he hasn’t married and sent off to Fez in two years! So why are you two looking so sad?”

“I think I’m in love --”

Mikoshiba and Haruka both spoke simultaneously, and as soon as they did, they looked up at each other in surprise.

“You first, brother,” Mikoshiba said.

“-- With the Caliph. He asked me to stay here and be his swimming teacher, but I am no match for his desire for more wives. What troubles you, brother?”

“-- I’m in love the Calipha, whose beautiful smile I had the joy and pain of seeing today as she bathed. I’d give my future to have her as mine, but I know she’s too far above me.”

“Oh no,” Aizah said, hiding his face. “I should by rights throw you both out of the palace even now, but as long as you both know that your dreams are nothing but dreams, and as long as you help the Caliph feel better, I must let you remain.”

All three flopped backward onto the rugs and stared into space, waiting for the night to fall.


	6. The merman and the butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never could figure out how mermen have sex...

_Rei called and called out into the darkness of the water, until his voice was hoarse and his arms ached. He glanced up at the stars and recalculated his position -- he watched the ebb of the tide to determine that he hadn’t missed the precise moment -- but all of the signs were accurate. Why did no one come?_

_At the very end of his hope, he raised his hands to his mouth for one last call when he heard an amused chuckle from the rock beside him._

_“Ah, you know, I heard you the first few times. I just thought it was funny to watch you screaming your head off.”_

_Rei quickly scrambled to the other side of the rock and stared. There, sitting upon a low shelf, was a beautiful creature. Even though the moon was slim (just like it is this very night, O Caliph), the figure before him seemed to shine with a faint phosphorescence, as though it came from the very depths of the sea._

_The figure had golden hair in a halo around his head, with the muscled torso of a human man; but from the hips down, he had the curved and scaled tail of a sea creature. His scales shimmered orange and red like a koi, and the fins were of a delicate and lacy gold._

_“You’re staring at me,” the figure chuckled. “What is your name, O human? Mine is Nagisa. Do you like my tail?” With that, Nagisa gave a flip to his tail, and water rose in a great wave, soaking Rei to the skin._

_“Pffft --” Rei spluttered, and then bowed. “I didn’t mean to stare, O creature of the sea --”_

_“Nagi-chan, please.”_

_“N-Nagi-chan-kun. I have come as the spell foretold, to ask my favor of the God of the sea and his sons.”_

_“Don’t you want to chat with me a little first, before we get all seriously?” Nagisa said, sliding off his rock to swim to the shore, pulling himself with his arms to sit at Rei’s feet._

_Rei stared down at him and noticed that his eyes were the strangest shade that he’d ever seen, like the hollow of pink darkness inside of a seashell._

_“If you keep staring at me like that, you’ll give me ideas, you know,” Nagisa said, reaching his hand up toward Rei’s._

_Rei took the offered hand and sat on the sand beside Nagisa. “Prince of the sea,” Rei said, “I would gladly listen to anything you have to say, for I have never seen a creature s-so fair and c-cute --”_

_Nagisa laughed. “I am rather proud of how I look, it’s true,” he admitted, showing off his delicate koi tale with another flip. It matched the color of his sea-drenched curls. “It’s even better in the sunlight, but I guess that wouldn’t fulfil the spell, would it?”_

_“No,” Rei said sadly. “But I would like to see you in the sun.”_

_“I’d like you to see me in the sun…” Nagisa said, eyes blinking slowly. “But you never answered me. What is your name?”_

_“Ah. It’s Rei. I...I called you here because I cannot swim, and as the son of a fisherman, that is my greatest desire.”_

_“You can’t swim? Aw -- that’s the easiest thing in the world! What a shame, I was hoping that your wish was so difficult we’d get to spend a lot of time together. But if it’s swimming, hold my hand and I’ll teach you.”_

_“Teach me?” Rei asked, his face turning red._

_“Yes. Until sunrise, I will teach you to swim. And then … I fear we will not meet again.”_

_Rei felt his heart ache at Nagisa’s words, but he took the hand extended to him, and despite his fear, he walked into the sea._

_Nagisa taught him throughout the long night. With Nagisa’s hand in his, Rei practiced many things -- kicking, diving, different ways to stay afloat. But somehow, no matter what Nagisa tried to teach him, Rei sank like a rock the second Nagisa released his hand._

_After the long night was over and the sky began to turn faintly pink, Nagisa finally allowed him to return to land. Lying exhausted beside each other on the shore, Nagisa pillowed his chin on his hands._

_“Rei. You’ll have to return tomorrow night. I will wait for you here. Happily, or sadly, I was unable to fulfil your wish, so I will be yours until you learn to swim.”_

_Rei turned his head to smile at the golden prince of the sea that lay beside him, and for the first time in his life, he was filled with joy at his inability to swim._

~

“O daughter of El-Amin (whose name I still do not know),” Rayyan interrupted. “First, how could someone not know how to swim? Second, are you sure that this sea creature was male? The way that you are describing this relationship, it seems that they will soon become lovers.”

Rayyan lay upon his rugs with his hand propping up his head, his expression completely absorbed as he watched Haruka spin his tale. Haruka stood before him and noticed that Rayyan’s brow was furrowed.

“Ah, hm, how to answer,” Haruka chuckled, pausing in his storyteller’s dance with his hand extended as if to touch the golden hair of the sea creature. “First, how is it that you question someone’s inability to swim before you’d question the existence of a man who is part fish? And second…” Haruka knelt, crawling closer to Rayyan, holding his eyes. “Have you not sometimes felt this way about a man?”

Haruka reminded himself to be careful. He was his own rival, tonight, but the question was important.

Rayyan avoided Haruka-the-storyteller’s eyes. “Is that a thing I should admit to my bride? I realize that we have not yet gotten married. We should do that before you continue, because tomorrow, I am meeting someone and --”

Haruka’s hand slid around Rayyan’s wrist. “I’d rather finish my story.”

Rayyan sat up so that they were near each other, wrist still in Haruka’s hand, and this time he leaned closer too.

“Daughter of El-Amin, I want to ki --”

Haruka swiftly got up and slid away again in a flare of black and purple robes. “Isn’t your third question going to be, _How does a man have sex with another man, especially one who is half fish?_ ”

Rayyan’s expression was astonished as he stared up, and he scratched his head. “I’d never considered the difficulty in either situation. Yes -- answer that.”

“Or,” Haruka said teasingly, “I could answer why it is that the country of my birth had many gods, while this great kingdom has only one.”

“No,” Rayyan said decisively, “I’d rather hear about the sex.” He resumed his position lying on the floor at Haruka’s feet, and watched again.

~

_Night after night, Rei met Nagisa in the cove on the island. Night after night they played in the sea all night long, but Rei could only swim when Nagisa’s hand was in his._

_Nagisa cast a spell over him so that he could breathe water while holding Nagisa’s hand, and together they went to the palace under the waves in which Nagisa’s father, the god of the sea, dwelt, to see if anyone could assist him._

_Despite the best efforts of fish and mermen, nobody could, and one cold dawn, Rei could tell that Nagisa was getting discouraged._

_“I don’t understand,” Nagisa said, curling near to Rei in the chill wind of the coming morning. The summer was ending, and Rei knew he would have to move back to his father’s house on the mainland soon enough. “We’ve tried everything.”_

_“Nagisa… may I admit something to you?”_

_“Have you been pretending that you can’t swim just to be near me?”_

_“No, but almost. For the first time in my life I have been happy that I can’t swim, simply because it meant that I could spend every night with you.” Reaching out his arms, Rei slid them around Nagisa and pulled him close. “I love you, sea prince! And now I have a different wish. Instead of learning to swim, I wish to be with you, if there is a way, for the rest of my life.”_

_Nagisa’s eyes were bright as he smiled at Rei. “Do you think I would’ve spent all this time with you if I didn’t know that?”_

_That moment, O Caliph, is when the spell finally took hold. In a long, painful moment of transformation, Rei’s body was caught in by the powerful magic that he’d summoned, and his body slowly changed. His tail was not the delicate orange of a koi, but something brighter, spotted with purple and black and tipped with a fin like a butterfly’s wing._

_“You won’t be able to live with your father any longer, but now you can be my bride --” Nagisa said, sliding into the water. “Come catch up, Rei! Now you can finally swim!”_

_With a deep breath, Rei left his landlocked life behind and slid into the water. His tail seemed to move for him, jackknifing his body in such a way that his arms moved like twin wings, and what used to be his legs moved together in a wave. It worked, it finally worked -- and with his odd, sinuous stroke, he followed Nagisa out to sea._

~

“... I’m still waiting for the sex part,” Rayyan said, “but it seems you’ve completed the tale.”

Haruka stood still for a moment, staring down at the man in front of him. Rayyan’s eyes looked dark, almost drugged by the story and the lateness of the hour. He lay relaxed upon his back, hands pillowed behind his head, one leg raised… so defenseless that it took much of Haruka’s self-control to not pounce upon him and push him down.

 _I’d rather show you than tell you_ , Haruka ached to say.

Instead, Haruka walked to a candle and blew it out, and then to another, and another, until the room in the pre-dawn darkness was darker than night.

“Stay still,” Haruka said. “Promise me that you will stay just like that.” His voice was commanding now, although he still kept it as light as a woman’s.

“I -- okay,” Rayyan said, his expression lost to the darkness, but his tone uncertain.

Haruka knelt beside Rayyan and unhooked the veil from his face. “You cannot move your hands,” he whispered into Rayyan’s ear, and then placed a kiss right beneath it, on the lean curve of neck. … Rayyan tasted as Haruka thought he would, of sweat and incense and spice and something else...

Rayyan gasped at the feeling of Haruka’s lips. “Daughter of El-Amin, we are not married yet. Would you give me your chastity this way?”

“Hush,” Haruka said again, and covered Rayyan’s lips with his own.

The kiss began softly, but before long they both drank from each other as if slaking the thirst of years. Haruka’s body ached, and he shifted his hands to hold Rayyan’s wrists firmly, because if Rayyan pulled Haruka any closer, his disguise would be for nothing.

“You taste like something I’ve longed for,” Rayyan whispered, the moment Haruka pulled away.

They were both panting, but Rayyan kept to his word and held still. “And your grip is surprisingly -- strong -- for a woman…”

“You taste like water,” Haruka said, which was his sincerest complement, and bent back to kiss him again.

Haruka kissed him until the light from the window began to make his face visible. Then he broke away despite Rayyan’s protests and fastened his veil back over his face, bowing his head.

“It is dawn, Caliph,” Haruka said. “I failed to begin another story, and now, I have given you what any woman might give.”

Rayyan lay still, frowning, feeling his heart ache in his chest. “I was willing to marry you and let you go. I had a decision to make for a...a friend. But now… I would have you with me, daughter of El-Amin. I wish to listen to your stories every night, and kiss you until morning dawn. But… even with you, honestly, there is something missing. Unless you know how to swim?”

Ahhh… Haruka cursed himself. His own desire had ruined their plan. What could he do now?

“Will you await me again tonight, Caliph? Tonight, all will be resolved.”

Rayyan sat up, reaching for Haruka. “Why tonight? Can’t you be with me now?”

“Not yet. Tonight. One more night of your time...and maybe my storyteller’s skill will heal your heart.”

Rayyan rose, stepping forward so swiftly that Haruka couldn’t slide away, and gripped his wrists again.

_”But what is your name?”_

“It is -- aahhh -- it is Sheherezade,” Haruka said, and turned away swiftly enough that Rayyan was left holding nothing but Haruka’s veil.

Rayyan watched the floating black cloud of the storyteller’s robes as she fled his room in the growing light of dawn, and finally slumped to the ground. He was exhausted from the long day and the long night. Sliding the veil between his fingers, he rested it against his body, thinking of those kisses…

No woman had ever kissed him like that, the few times he’d allowed it. He’d never felt anything like it, the sense of being overpowered and held down by someone stronger, and with a fiercer desire.

It made Rayyan feel ecstatic, somewhere deep inside, in a place that didn’t even know it wanted that kind of overpowering. But his heart was too confused to give his head a clear answer. If he married Scheherezade, then he couldn’t swim with Haru.

Cradling the veil carefully against his cheek, Rayyan closed his eyes… and then frowned in puzzlement.

The storyteller’s veil smelled like water.


	7. The tale of the storm

Khou’s face was full of donkey. This one was a grey with a mane of rusty red, and even though Khou had him by the lead rope and tugged with all her might, he refused to pass through the gate to his pen. He huffed out air and dug in his heels, giving Khou such a cross-eyed stare that she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You,” Khou informed the donkey, “remind me of my brother.”

The donkey snorted as if to express how he felt about such a resemblance.

“Seriously. It’s time for you to stop eating, or you won’t fit into your saddlebags.” Khou gave another tug, and then shook her head. “Are you trying to make me look bad? In my own city, whenever I give an order, people jump to the call. Are you going to disobey the word of the Calipha?”

The donkey turned his head away to eye up the food trough as though he hadn’t heard.

“Yep. Just like my brother,” Khou sighed.

Mikoshiba came up behind her and chuckled. “Ah, old Rosey just needs…” Mikoshiba clicked his tongue with great authority and gave the donkey a light slap on the flank. “Go on in, boy. The food will be there again tomorrow.”

Khou scowled as the donkey obeyed with a small toss of his mane. “Hmph. I didn’t realize that he wouldn’t listen to reason.”

Mikoshiba couldn’t help draping his arm lightly around Khou’s shoulder. She was just too cute, with her eyebrows knit together and her expression (what he could see of it beneath the keffiyah) so annoyed. Her eyebrows were red too, and the sight of them filled Mikoshiba with such a ridiculous happiness that he couldn’t help grinning.

“-- Miyaz, are you touching me because I am dressed as a boy, and you’re helping with my disguise?”

Oops. “Ah...honestly, it was because you looked frustrated. I forgot that I could not.” Out of courtesy to his (very female, no matter what her clothing) guest he let his arm fall, sighing. He wanted to do so much more than lightly hug her.

“You...can. Since I am a boy today,” Khou said, and her eyes dropped as she blushed. The keffiyeh was draped over her hair and across her face as though she were a Berber; her one request when donning her disguise was that her face remain hidden for the sake of her own modesty.

Mikoshiba wasn’t going to say no to that. He gathered her shoulders under his arm again and cradled her against him, thinking that even though she’d been helping with all of the chores at his farm, she still smelled like cinnamon and saffron and myrrh. “Thank you for coming to help feed my donkeys today. They’ve been missing me, and … honestly, I’ve been missing them. Amid the beauty of the palace, I love my home even more…”

The orchard was buzzing with a peaceful industry that afternoon, with groups of Mikoshiba’s employees strewn throughout the orchard, harvesting the bright golden orbs of oranges. The full baskets drew Khou’s eyes as they had the first time she met Mikoshiba, but this time her mind was preoccupied by the thought of him -- his arm around her shoulder, his expression as he looked at her.

“I can see why you’d miss it. It’s a good place,” Khou said, feeling for a moment as if she had to avoid his gaze. His body felt strong against her...the first man she’d allowed to touch her besides her father and brother and Aizah. His touch felt just as protective, but very, very different at the same time.

“That’s not to say that your brother’s palace isn’t lovely, but I get twitchy if I’m not doing something useful with my time. And my father left me in charge of our business, so I feel I have to do well with it, for all the people that work for us and his memory too…”

“I understand,” Khou said. “I have been away from Fez for a long time, out of concern for my brother. I am governing remotely as best I can, but in the end, I feel that my family and my heart are here. It’s been weighing on my mind… I know I must return, but I have so many ties to this place.” She avoided Mikoshiba’s eyes again, wondering when he’d made it onto her list of people that she’d miss. Perhaps during that day of planning for Haruka’s disguise?

Mikoshiba took a deep breath, wondering if he had the temerity to ask her to stay for his sake, even if they’d only be able to continue like this. “Do you enjoy governing Fez?”

Khou met his eyes finally, thinking that Mikoshiba was near, very near, and the combination of staring into his eyes and being held by him made her feel perilously warm inside. “I was born to it, and it’s my destiny.” Khou shrugged. “I do it because it is my duty. You must know what it is like to be born to a destiny.”

Instead of agreeing, Mikoshiba surprised her by carefully shaking his head. “Ah -- but Calipha, I was not born to this destiny, but another, and perhaps that is how I know that destinies change.”

~

Several hours earlier, Rayyan strode toward his pool feeling a turmoil of emotion. How could it be that instead of finding a clear solution to his present situation, he felt nothing but more intense emotions, both for the intriguing storyteller that suspected he might be able to find peace with, and the swimming teacher with the beautiful body that he felt … competitive toward (in an admittedly deep and passionate way).

Rayyan stripped to his skin and dove straight into the pool, noticing that Haru wasn’t there quite yet. Ah well, he’d arrive when he arrived. 

An hour of swimming later, Rayyan surfaced, scowling. His strokes were getting cleaner, as well as his turn at the end of the pool, but that wasn’t the point. He’d had things to say to that man, and that man was clearly avoiding him. Sliding out of the pool, Rayyan walked toward the gate that led to the beach, still naked and dripping, to see if he could spot his instructor.

Just outside the gate he saw a figure kneeling on the sand, carefully building something. Rayyan swore to himself; it was that thrice-damned Haru. 

Approaching, Rayyan stared down at the creation. It was built in the shape of a house or a castle or something, but it was not like the domed and turreted building behind him. The structure in the sand looked square, with a triangular roof that ended in upraised points, an alien architecture.

“What are you doing? You were supposed to swim with me.”

“I needed to think.”

“About what? Can’t you do that after you swim?” Rayyan glared at him. So far, Haru hadn’t looked up at him.

“Rin. Have you thought about what you want?”

“Of course,” Rayyan said, digging his hand through the wet lengths of his hair. “It’s been keeping me awake all morning. If you were a woman, I’d marry you in a second. But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Haruka stood and stepped toward Rayyan, closer and closer, until Rayyan found his wrist caught in a strong (strangely familiar?) grip.

“I’m not a woman, Rin. But I would marry you in a second anyway.”

The eyes boring into Rayyan’s were calm and certain, but also intense. 

“Are you -- proposing to me?” Rayyan’s astonishment was so great that he didn’t pull away, even if they were standing so close together that his naked body could feel the heat from Haruka’s robes. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Yes. Does it matter who I am?”

“The laws of this land don’t allow it.”

“You make the laws, change them.”

“I don’t make the laws, they’re all in the Book --” For an anguished moment, Rayyan realized that he wished he could change the laws as easily as that. “But why are we talking about marriage? I already asked you to be with me. Live with me here, and swim with me…”

“ _Swimming_ is not all I want to do with you, Rin.”

The heat from Haruka’s eyes and the warm, sandy fingers on his wrist made Rayyan shiver, as if a wave of energy washed over him from his hair to the soles of his feet.

“What...do you want to do with me, Haru?” Rayyan asked, cautiously. He was reasonably sure he knew the answer, but perhaps it was _swim in a different pool_ or _travel to a different country and swim_...or something else that involved _swimming_.

Haruka slid his hand to Rayyan’s and raised it, bringing it to his lips with Rayyan’s eyes still caught by his gaze. He kissed each finger, and then the palm of Rayyan’s hand.

Rayyan realized that not only was he still trembling, his body was reacting as if Haruka’s mouth was on other parts of it ... and he was too naked to pretend that nothing was happening.

Before his body got even more out of hand, Rayyan realized that he had to go. A second later he turned and ran, cursing his rebellious body, cursing Haruka, and cursing the laws that kept him away from this man.

Behind him, he heard Haruka calling his name, “Rin -- Rin,” but the voice receded farther and farther away as Rayyan fled down the beach.

He ran and ran and ran … and realized how uncomfortable and floppy it was to run naked, but he didn’t stop because he really needed to run from what he felt, which was completely confused … he ran until the sun set, and until the stars were alight beneath the half moon. 

Then he stopped, because he knew that Sheherezade was waiting for him in his room. The thought gave him comfort. She’d told him that her story that night would ease his mind, and that was what he needed just then.

An hour’s run later he finally entered his bedroom.

~

It was the most difficult thing in the world for Haruka to don Sheherezade’s robes again and await the Caliph in his room. Rayyan’s reluctance had made things easier for Haruka, even if it also filled him with a bitterness deeper than any he’d felt since he lost his first home. It was clear that he’d been rejected. Even so, Haruka had to try one more time.

When Rayyan entered the door of his chamber, naked and dripping with sweat and sand, Haruka felt a bit of satisfaction that at least his expression was as tormented as Haruka’s heart.

“Forgive me. I hardly look like a romantic prince tonight,” Rayyan said, stepping back onto his balcony to pour water over his sandy feet.

“Let me,” said Haruka, following. Haruka knelt in front of Rayyan, staring at the body that he wasn’t allowed to touch as a man, and sighed inside. He dipped the long end of his borrowed veil into the water, and gently cleaned the sand from Rayyan’s feet, legs, and thighs...

Rayyan stared down, feeling the soft touch undo something inside of him. Some of the calmness that his run had brought him came undone, and he felt his eyes well up with tears again. He bent his head and let himself cry.

Haruka felt the water of his tears splash against his hand and the cloth over his arm, and looked up. In his gentlest voice, he said, “O Caliph, I will tell you a tale that will ease your heart. But first, let us finally wed?”

Rayyan took a shuddering breath, and shook his head.

“Sheherezade, although you are my bride this night, I cannot wed you. I’ve realized that in all of the land there is not a single woman that I can call wife. Tomorrow I will divorce all seven-hundred and thirty one of my wives and set them free. They can still wed again, after all -- I have not touched a single one of them.”

“What will you do instead?” Haruka’s heart felt painful, as if the hope that burst within him from Rayyan’s words was too large for just one heart to handle. Could it be that Rayyan would accept him, as he was?

Instead of answering, Rayyan said, “I will tell you the answer after you have told me your tale. You must end your story tonight, Sheherezade, for tomorrow, I will send you home.”

Haruka bent his head, feeling the mix of emotions threaten to break his disguise. 

“So be it,” Haruka said after he’d mastered himself, and began his tale.

~

_There was a storm at sea. Have you been on a boat in a storm, O Caliph? Storms are exhilarating, storms are violent, storms are the water’s way of reclaiming its own. But more than that, storms are like the hands of fate ripping away the moorings of your life and setting you adrift._

_This is what happened to two sons of El Amin, before they were the sons of El Amin, and before they were brothers. It is the tale of Mikoshiba Seijurou and Nanase Haruka --_

“Haruka, son of El Amin? Is he your brother?” Rayyan’s eyebrow rose. Ah, how awkward. He wondered if Sheherezade and Haruka spoke to each other about him, and what the conversation was like. Blushing, he took Sheherezade by the hand and led her back into his room. The servants had already lit the candles, and in the faint light, Rayyan found a pair of soft pajama pants to slide into. He wished that he could see Sheherezade’s face...but if he was not going to wed her, he would leave her this modesty.

“...Ah, you will know the answer after you listen to the tale,” Sheherezade said to him, clicking her tongue. She stood before him again, taking up her storyteller’s stance, conjuring with her robes and imagination the motion of the wind and the waves.

_Haruka and Seijurou were on a fishing boat with their fathers. They were childhood friends, the sons of fishermen who grew up in the protected harbor of Iwabi. They’d seen storms before, and their fathers had weathered many of them, but this day’s storm was wilder than any they’d seen._

_They had turned the vessel to flee back to their port when the storm caught them. The darkness of the sky turned noon to night, and the sea’s maw opened wide -- the wind and current sucked their little boat down into a trough as vast as a valley. Their fathers, working with much haste and little hope, lashed their sons to the mast… and when the crest of the wave smashed over them, the boys watched as their fathers were dragged from the ship and eaten by the mighty power of the storm._

_Unconsciousness was a blessing. When the boys awoke, they found themselves floating on a calm sea, still lashed to the few pieces of boat that remained. They could not move, for they were without water or food, and the boys resigned themselves to their death. Surely, soon enough, death would come, and death would console the pain of their hearts._

_But then, O Caliph, came something worse than death. A boat passed and the crew spotted the two boys. The master of the ship called for the boys to be rescued, and they were… But the vessel was a slave ship bound to North Africa, skimming far coasts for weaker ships and men to harvest._

_The boys were quickly broken to their role, for they were young and without hope of returning home. The sons of El Amin were each strong in their own ways. Seijurou quickly learned to take authority, and soon he was the leader of the slaves, learning each strange language to better communicate between the owner and the stolen men, responsible beyond his years. Haruka’s strength was in silence and endurance, and no matter what cruel task he was set to, he did it with a will to survive._

_After a journey at sea so long that it was forever burnt into Haruka’s heart, they arrived in this very land. They were sold with a group of slaves to a mining company, and soon they were marching across a desert as vast as the sea to a mine for mineral and ore._

_O Caliph, Haruka suffered then. If you know him, you will know that he is a child of water, born to dwell in it and near it, always. Haruka’s journey through the desert was without a doubt the most painful experience he’d ever had, beyond even losing his family and his first home. It was during this time that Seijurou kept him alive out of his love for his old friend. Seijurou stole water for him, risking punishment and his own shortened rations. If not for these secret, stolen flasks of water, Haruka would have died…_

_Working in the mine was cruel and dry, so dry. Haruka suffered there as if his very soul was being withered out of him. Seeing his pain, Seijurou formulated a plan for escape. One night at the dark of the moon, they stole camels and began to make their way north to the coast. Along they way there was another storm -- but this one was of sand. It rose up around them, forcing sand into their nose and eyes and ears and mouth, pushing them to huddle between their camels and pray with all their might for their lives._

_Once again a storm changed their fate, O Caliph. The storm brought them to Hassan El-Amin, the gentlest and kindest of men. He took these two boys into his caravan. Hassan saw the strength in them, and soon decided to set them free._

_“I will teach you from the Book and baptise you, and you will no longer be slaves. If you would remain with me, I will call you my children (for I have no other), and I will give you work to be proud of, and a land to call your home. Will you stay with me? The choice is your own.”_

_Out of gratefulness and love, the boys accepted him as their father and remained._

“Wait,” said Rayyan, catching the words. “...Hassan El-Amin had no other children? Save for you, Sheherezade…?” His words trailed off as his thoughts caught up to him, and suddenly he realized what she...no, he...had said.

“...Sheherezade?”

Slowly, Sheherezade raised her arm and slid her veil away from her face. When the veil was gone, she removed her head covering, and then unbelted the black and purple robe that clad her body.

Half-clad in Sheherezade’s pants, Haruka stepped out of the pile of soft cloth, and knelt before Rayyan.

“Will you have this former slave and son of El-Amin, O Caliph? Everything I have endured, everything I have become, is yours.”

Head bowed, Haruka awaited Rayyan’s words.


	8. Many, many proposals

The silence in the darkened room was so thick and profound (despite the sound of the waves, despite the singing crickets) that Haruka’s heart began to quake in his chest. The man in front of him did nothing but stare, and Haruka could almost feel the cogs of Rayyan’s mind turning, sorting and processing and putting all of his emotions into place.

Then Haruka sensed motion, and a moment later he was bowled over onto his back on the soft carpets, and Rayyan threw a leg over Haruka’s thighs to pin him into place. Haruka’s wrists were covered by strong hands, and as he looked up, he saw Rayyan’s eyes melting into tears again.

“You lied to me.” A drop of water fell on Haruka’s face. “There was no Sheherezade, and I almost fell in love with her.”

“I’m sorry, Rin.”

“You made me fall for two of you,” Rayyan snarled, glaring down. “Do you think that my emotions could be easily resolved? If only you were Sheherezade instead of … you, Haru. It would be easy.”

Haruka felt the pain of Rayyan’s words strike him. He knew that he couldn’t ask or hope for more, and he took an aching breath to apologize again -- when he felt Rayyan’s lips cover his own in a sudden, impossible kiss. He was too surprised to do more than accept, opening his mouth in a gasp, and gasping more when he felt Rayyan take advantage of it.

Tongue sliding against tongue, the kiss burnt with a hot anguish. Rayyan’s body moved on top of Haruka’s to more firmly press him down, and their limbs tangled as their bare chests met. Pulling his hands free, Haruka slid his fingers up the skin of Rayyan’s warm back to tangle into his thick hair. Haruka didn’t hold back this time, nor did he try to kiss in a way that was somehow feminine; this was _Haruka_ kissing _Rin_ and not _Sheherezade_ kissing _Rayyan_ , and he wanted Rayyan to feel the difference.

Haruka didn’t hide his body’s reaction to their kiss. Instead, he pulled Rayyan closer, firmly showing him just how much he desired the man. Could the Caliph handle it, the knowledge that Haruka was no woman? 

The answer came in a harsh, panting groan into Haruka’s mouth, and Haruka felt clear proof that Rayyan had no trouble at all with his male body. The kiss went on with a mounting pressure between them, skin against skin and mouth open to mouth, hungry and heated. 

Then Rayyan slid a curious hand slowly down Haruka’s stomach and woke Haruka from his daze. _Time to slow down_ , Haruka thought through the clamor of his body’s hunger. He turned his head and felt Rayyan’s mouth trail to his ear.

“Rin.”

“Haru,” Rayyan breathed into his ear, his hand pausing.

“I don’t understand your answer. Is this a no or a yes?”

Rayyan’s body slumped against him, his face against Haru’s hair. “I have things to say, but I will call all the conspirators together, because I don’t think you were the only one at fault.”

Oh.

Very gently, Haruka dislodged Rayyan from his body and sat up, feeling his body losing impetus as the words sank in. Banishment? Imprisonment? Or what was worse, simply being ignored? Haruka stood and nodded. “I will accept whatever you say.”

~

The half moon was high overhead when, at the Caliph’s decree, three of the four met in Aizah’s room.

“You did WHAT yesterday?” Aizah howled, gripping the Calipha by both shoulders. “Do you know how many guards I sent to search for you, you fool?”

“Ai! Ai, calm down. I was safe the whole time -- Miyaz was with me.”

“SAFE! He’s the one I need to protect you from --” Glaring daggers at Mikoshiba, Aizah slid between the two, forcefully scooting Khou away from the taller man. “Do you know the punishment for abducting the Calipha, you -- you herder of goats?!”

“Donkeys, not goats. Ah, relax. All we did was feed the livestock and pick a few oranges,” Mikoshiba said, sighing. “Besides, I thought she cleared it with you first.”

The lovely eyes beneath the green veil were just a little guilty. “Miyaz, do you think this overprotective guardian would let me simply go off with a man to his home? He would’ve insisted on joining us, and I...I didn’t want him to, yesterday.”

“Oh, no...” Mikoshiba shook his head. “Sorry for worrying you, Ai. But honestly, not a hair on her is harmed.” He couldn’t say I didn’t touch her because he kind of did, but Ai never needed to know that.

“Besides, we simply hugged a little --” Khou said, and Ai froze.

“You TOUCHED her!” Ai howled again, but was interrupted by a figure striding through the door to his room.

“We were found out,” Haruka announced, kicking a few piles of dirty clothing out of the way to make room to sit. “Well. More like I revealed it. The result is that Rin wants to speak to us. He said he’d be here shortly.”

Haruka slumped to the ground at Mikoshiba’s side and leaned against him.

Mikoshiba’s heart caught in his throat at the expression on Haruka’s face, and his arm went around his brother’s shoulder. “It went badly?” Mikoshiba said, as gently as he could.

Haruka nodded, and then shook his head. “I don’t know. The Caliph is difficult to understand. He cries one moment, and kisses the next…”

“K-kisses!” Aizah’s face turned red, and he looked as though he was about to explode. “Before he discovered that you were a -- but wait, if you removed the veil, he -- how?”

“Do you want me to describe it to you in detail, Aizah?” Haruka asked, his expression turning the faintest bit amused.

Mikoshiba kissed his brother’s forehead and hugged him closer, feeling a surge of protectiveness. “Keep those memories to yourself,” he said. “Maybe in the future they will comfort you?” Mikoshiba sighed, wondering if they’d both flown too high. There was a story his brother told about a man with wings of wax who flew too close to the sun…

Khou frowned. “Honestly,” she said, “Our plan worked. We wished to put an end to my brother’s relentless marriages, and we did, right?”

“Yes. He’s going to divorce them all. But...he said he won’t marry me.”

“How could he?” Aizah said, shaking his head. “You’re _not a woman_ , last time I checked.”

Haruka merely looked at Ai, tilting his head. “Has that mattered any to you?”

Caught, Aizah turned his face away, feeling his cheeks turn red. “H-how did you know about that?”

“About what?” Khou asked, raising her eyebrow.

“I don't think it's something he wishes to share,” Haruka said quietly. 

Khou was about to ask more questions when another figure filled the doorway. This time, it was her brother’s shape, and he held a garment in his hands.

“You four,” Rayyan growled, prowling around the group huddled on the floor as best he could. He kicked aside a pile of scrolls and stood beside Haruka, dropping the shimmering gold and white cloth onto his lap. “I should throw all of you out of my city for conspiring against me. Indeed, I am so disappointed in all of you for taking these kinds measures against me, that I nearly assigned you to feeding the crocodiles instead.”

“Rayyan, let me explain --” Khou began, but Rayyan held up his hand imperiously.

“I should assign you to something worse,” Rayyan spat, “Which is cleaning this damned room. But --”

Rayyan got to his knee and took Haruka’s hand in his. “Will you be my last bride? And I do mean bride. In order for the world to recognize us, you must go clothed as a woman during the day, only revealing your true nature at night, and to me alone. Haru, will you choose a life of deception, and remain with --”

“Yes, Rin.”

A second later, Haruka had his arms around Rayyan, holding him so hard that they both lost their balance and fell into a pile of slightly wet towels.

“This is disgusting --” Rayyan growled, rolling them both away from it, and encountering a set of dirty dishes instead. “AIZAH, CLEAN THIS RIDICULOUS MESS --”

“Out of all of the proposals we’ve given each other,” Haruka said, his face muffled by a drape of dirty towel, “this has got to be the least romantic.”

Laughing, Mikoshiba helped them both to their feet, and then bowed his head to Rayyan. “As the head of the El-Amin household, I can promise you a bride price of a hundred bushels of oranges,” he said, chuckling. “And no more, because I never thought I’d be in the position to have to provide a dowry.”

Haruka’s face, once free of the towel, was glowing with a quiet joy as he slid an arm around Rayyan’s waist. Rayyan’s expression, in turn, was ridiculously embarrassed. “No one is to know the true nature of my wife. All of you, swear it. Not because I am ashamed -- but because by law Haru’s life would be in danger otherwise.”

They swore, although Aizah’s voice was the most subdued.

“Besides,” Haruka said, shrugging, “As a storyteller, I am more Sheherezade and less Haruka anyway. As long as I can swim at night, I don’t need to be male during the day.”

“Swim…?” Rayyan said, only to catch Haruka’s slightly guilty expression. “Don’t tell me, this was all for my _pool_.”

“It wasn’t entirely for your pool.”

“ _Entirely?_ ”

“That’s...amazing,” Khou interrupted, “But I have something else to add. I...I want to stay here, in Marrakech, in the palace where I was born. It was nice of you to give me a city of my own to rule, Rayyan, but I don’t want to be apart from you or my family. I was thinking...that maybe I could give Fez to Aizah instead?”

Mikoshiba’s eyes caught Khou’s, and a flush spread over his cheeks even as his heart filled with joy, so much that he almost forgot his brother’s happiness. He stepped over to Khou and looked down at her. “I am glad you will remain here. I want to see you, more and more.”

Khou looked down and away from him, hiding her eyes. “Well, I know,” she said.

“Thank you…” Aizah looked at Khou, and it was only then that Mikoshiba noticed the tears that hovered on the corners of his eyes. “I’m happy, I'm happy for everyone,” Aizah's voice broke a little as he drew his sleeve across his face. “Thank you, Khou. I think I’ll take you up on the offer. I don’t think I can stay in this city if it’s going to be like this --”

“Eh?” Rayyan’s face turned confused, and Haruka shook his head, stepping away from him.

“Sorry. Rin is dense,” Haruka said to Aizah. “He never knew. Visit us. Don’t be gone for too long.”

“DENSE?” Rayyan spluttered.

“But first,” Aizah said, masking his expression with his best determined look, “but first, we will throw the grandest wedding that Marrakech has ever known, in honor of the Caliph’s last (and only) bride.”

Haruka sighed, and Rayyan stooped to pick up the gold and white garment, handing it to him. “Khou will help dress you. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, on our wedding day. Aizah, come with me, let’s plan…”

“Wait --” Haruka caught his sleeve and made him pause.

...And everyone’s eyes slid elsewhere while the Caliph kissed his bride.

~

“If Haruka is to live as a woman, I must be his instructor today,” Khou announced on the morning of the wedding. “If I do not do all of the things required of those closest to the bride, people will suspect that there is something amiss.”

“But you’ll see him naked,” Aizah objected, “and he is NOT a woman.”

Mikoshiba concurred there. “I don’t really think this is a good idea -- however, Haruka is probably the only man I would allow you to do this with.” Mikoshiba pulled Haruka aside, saying quietly, “...And brother, if you see anything worth telling me, I depend upon you.”

“As you wish,” Haruka sighed, gritting his teeth. Today was not a day he looked forward to. He knew that it involved many things that he felt slightly uncertain about, including the ritual bath of purification, the application of henna on his hands and feet, donning the wedding dress, and applying the makeup... It was just another performance, he told himself, but in truth it would be the first of a lifetime of such. He felt like a storyteller sentenced to tell a new tale every day.

Climbing into the bath with Khou was the first moment of awkwardness.

Khou averted her eyes, but after a moment Haruka shook his head. “You can look. I will be your brother soon enough.”

Bashfully, Khou inspected him as they both sank into the water. “You are leaner than Rayyan. If I might ask, are you truly the...the ‘wife’?”

Haruka felt a bit of wry amusement at that question. It pertained to how men had sex, he gathered. “That’s to be decided between us, later, if I survive until then. My brother is jealous of me, by the way,” Haruka added, averting his eyes from Khou’s bare face.

The bath felt heavenly, and soon Haruka’s eyes were closed as he leaned against the edge, feeling the water easing his soul.

“Miyaz is jealous of you -- for seeing my face?” Khou blushed, smiling just a little. 

“It is his utmost wish to see your smile,” Haruka said. “Although he would beat me if he knew I told you.”

Khou sank beneath the surface of the bath, her breath bubbling from the depths and feet kicking. When she emerged again, Haruka saw her grinning quietly to herself.

“And -- what is HE like, naked?” Khou asked next, making Haruka spit water in surprise.

“Ahh -- what?”

“I forgot that you are not a woman. You must learn that women speak of such things,” Khou said, giggling. “Did you think we were too pure of heart to imagine things like that?”

“I -- never considered. But. Because you will be my sister, I will tell you. Mikoshiba’s body is tougher than mine, muscled everywhere from days of hard labor, and his muscles stand out much more than mine do. And Khou, his hair is red...everywhere.”

Khou’s blushing face sank below the water again while Haruka laughed. This had to be the point of such a purification bath -- to get out all of the bride’s nerves about the wedding night.

“And how will you describe me to Miyaz, when you see him tonight?”  
“I will not tell him about your body,” Haruka said, “for that is his to discover, if he is so lucky. I will tell him about your smile. I will tell him that it is like seeing the lit windows of home from far away.”

“That sounds poetic,” Khou chuckled. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’ll tell my brother about you?”

“He’ll see it himself soon enough,” Haruka said, and despite himself, he felt his blush spreading everywhere, just like Khou’s.

“Next, we shave,” Khou announced, and Haruka braced himself...

After the bath was over, Khou dressed Haruka in the white and gold garments of a bride, drawing a veil over his face and setting a crown upon his head. When Haruka was clad, Khou called in the artists to apply henna to his limbs and draw the kohl around his eyes.

At the end of the preparations, the women examined him, clucking as they straightened his garments.

“Sheherezade El-Amin, you are a tall for a woman, and very slender. I hope that our Caliph will not break you tonight when he brings you to his bed.”

“I hope that he does not break either,” Haruka whispered to Khou, who laughed.

Just then there came the sound of drum beats and music, and many men’s voices raised in song. Outside the door to Haruka’s chamber came a group of men, four of whom carried a raised palanquin. They set it on the ground, and Haruka climbed inside, a figure clad like a princess amid the white and gold. 

“Good luck to you, Sheherezade, my sister,” called Khou, and soon Haruka was carried through the palace toward the banquet hall.

It was the first time that Haruka had seen Rayyan looking entirely like the lord he was. He sat on his own palanquin, regally balanced, adorned in the same white and gold. On his head was a white turban that enhanced the redness of his hair, and when their eyes met, Rayyan smiled with such joy that it made Haruka smile back.

Haruka devoutly wished everyone gone. If the wedding day had been his to plan, it would be the two of them together, alone, in a pool of water.

When their palanquins were set together, Rayyan made space upon his own and reached his hand out to Haruka, his eyes bright. “Come and join me, bride.”

There, before the court of the Caliph of Marrakech, Haruka El-Amin took the hand of Caliph Rayyan and sat beside him, and became his wife.

~

Khou wandered far from the singing and dancing, feeling her own heart ache within her. Even if she would remain in Marrakech forever, within a donkey’s ride of the person she desired, she wondered if she would ever be given the joy of her own wedding, someday. It made her feel, quite frankly, blue.

But from the bower of jasmine behind her there came the sound of a voice, interrupting her thoughts. 

“Khou, are you no longer dancing? I was watching you…”

“Miyaz.” Khou turned to see him approach her, looking handsome in his festive garb of red and black and white. She was glad that her veil hid her smile; she knew it would have given her away entirely. “I was watching you dance as well, from across the room.” Men and women danced separately, but everyone still stared at each other. “Do you think that this deception will work?”

“I hope so, for the sake of my brother,” Miyaz sighed, looking troubled. “But that is the path they chose, and even if it’s perilous, they are happier this way.”

“Would you be happy here, too?” Khou asked, biting her lip and looking down at her hands. She knew the answer, he’d already told her. “Ah -- never mind. I know that you would not leave your orchard.”

“Khou,” Mikoshiba’s voice dropped to something warm and tender, and he came forward to catch her hands in his. “Are you asking if I would leave it -- for _you_?”

Khou was still for a moment, and then, because she wanted to ask him while he could see her, she carefully undid her veil and let it slide to the ground. She looked up at him, smiling, and saw an expression of dazzled wonder cross his face.

“Beautiful,” Mikoshiba breathed, and he fell to his knees in front of her, looking up. His hand slid to her cheek, gently touching the soft curve of it.

“You are, too, Miyaz. Will you stay with me here, even if it is not your orchard?”

“I will not abandon my home, but that doesn’t mean we can’t spend time in both places, does it?” Mikoshiba brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, his eyes still drinking in her face.

“Well, that makes too much sense,” Khou said, her voice just a little grumpy. “Why did you make me doubt, and not say anything?”

“Because I wasn’t sure that you’d want someone like me,” Mikoshiba said. “I know now that I was wrong.” Then he stood and looked down at her, tilting her chin up with his fingers, and bent to kiss her.

For a first kiss, Khou thought, winding her arms around Mikoshiba’s neck, it was far, far sweeter than she’d imagined.


	9. The flowing water of life

The wedding lasted roughly forever, Haruka felt, sitting silently beside Rayyan and watching the celebratory clamor around him. It was beautiful to see the women dance. The food smelled good, although Haruka didn’t have the stomach to taste any yet. The music was the sweet and raucous exuberance of many drums and many instruments. But toward the middle of the night, Haruka’s head began to ache, and he longed for the quiet space of Rayyan’s room, and the candle light, and the sound of the sea.

Rayyan caught his eye at that moment, and his triumphant grin became something softer. “Ready?” Rayyan asked.

Haruka wasn’t sure what Rayyan meant by his words, but when his husband stood and offered him a hand, all of the music in the room slowed to a halt except for a low and anticipatory drum beat.

It was then, of all times, that Rayyan hefted Haruka up into his arms in a bridal carry.

“Are you serious, Rin?” Haruka growled into Rayyan’s ear as his husband stomped them toward his room.

The moment they were out of the banquet hall, the music burst forth again, and cheering echoed through the palace. Haruka found that his cheeks were burning red. “Do they think that after spending so many nights with such a bride as I, you’ve left me a virgin?”

“But I have, haven’t I?” Rayyan protested, smirking. “Oof, don’t hit me. We’re almost there, and you’re not light.”

The second Rayyan stepped them into his room, he set Haruka down and firmly closed and locked the door. 

Haruka breathed a sigh of relief. “Now I can finally take this off --” He moved to shed all of his clothing at once in a practiced toss, but Rayyan’s hand fell to his wrist.

“Leave it on,” Rayyan said, “please.” 

Haruka rolled his eyes expressively, but the first thing to go was the veil, and it pooled between them as Rayyan stepped close.

“Haru…” Gathering up handfuls of delicate gold and white fabric, Rayyan pressed Haruka against the door, kissing him with a hungry pressure of lip to lip. Soon they were both making noises loud enough to drown out the sound of the sea, and Haruka’s hands insistently tugged at Rayyan’s shirt.

The white turban slid off first, and Haruka’s fingers moved compulsively into Rayyan’s hair, holding his face steady as Haruka opened his mouth. Haruka slid their tongues together, and the wet, teasing slide was so good that his hands moved to Rayyan’s hips, holding them close in a slow slide.

“Haru. There’s something dirty about feeling you get hard under this wedding dress,” Rayyan said, looking down with a flush of red covering his cheeks.

Haruka smacked the top of Rayyan’s head. “And whose fault is it that we’re still at the door, and I’m still in these clothes? We could bathe first… Mmh!”

Rayyan’s hand delved under the layers of soft fabric and touched him, lightly and curiously, while Rayyan held his gaze. “I want you too much.” The hand squeezed through the silk of the women’s undergarments, and Haruka suddenly realized that if they didn’t take the edge off now, they wouldn’t last when they got to the actual sex.

Haruka slid to the floor, pulling Rayyan with him, and fought back his dress to sit between Rayyan’s legs, facing him. He gripped the muscles of Rayyan’s upper arms and brought their lips together again. During another soft slide of tongue against tongue, he dropped his hand between Rayyan’s legs and gave him the same curious touch.

Hot, and beautiful, Rayyan’s body felt just right in his hand. Haruka squeezed, and was rewarded by the same incoherent noise that he’d given, and felt a hand wrap around his own far-too-hard erection again. 

“Too many clothes,” Haruka groaned, but it was exquisite torture too, their touches too light through all of the fabric. Fighting the fine material, he pulled Rayyan’s pants down enough to find skin, brushing his fingers through soft hair… Peeking down, he saw it was a darker rose than Rayyan’s head. He smiled, the faintest bit.

“Oy, I want to look at you too…”

“Then let me take off my -- aaaahhh.”

Rayyan pushed back a layer or two of cloth and undid the tie that held Haruka’s undergarment, sending it pooling to the floor. The erection in Haruka’s hand swelled like an indicator of his mood while Rayyan stared.

“Yeah. It’s...ridiculously hot to see this within a wedding dress.” Slowly, Rayyan’s fingers traced a delicate path from tip to balls, and Haruka shivered.

“You’re a pervert.”

Rayyan laughed and pulled their bodies together, and suddenly their erections were touching, embraced by Rayyan’s hands. Their noises grew together, a panting that melted into more long kisses. 

Haruka broke away to kiss down Rayyan’s neck, his fingers exploring the bulk of muscle of Rayyan’s chest. He brushed experimental fingertips over already-hard nipples, and was rewarded by a nip of sharp teeth.

“Oy. I’m not the bride, here.”

Haruka chuckled and gave slow rubs in time to Rayyan’s steadily moving hand, and felt his lover shudder, and shudder again.

“S-stop that, Haru!”

“Do you really mean that?” Haruka stopped his fingers, only to hear Rayyan whimper.

“Actually, I meant the opposite. I’m never telling you to stop again.”

The embarrassed voice drove Haruka just a little mad, and a second later Rayyan’s back was on the floor with Haruka over his thighs, leaning down to attach his mouth to a nipple. Rayyan’s surprised back-arch was something to feel, and Haruka realized that he was close to coming just from that.

“I’m going to -- dirty my wedding dress,” Haruka said breathlessly.

“Don’t _stop_ doing that,” Rayyan said, equally breathlessly, and his hand around them both increased its pace until they were both crying out.

Rayyan came when Haruka’s hard suck to his nipple made his back arch again, and Haruka a second later, panting against Rayyan’s heart.

They collapsed together onto the floor, and Haruka gave a low, barely audible chuckle. “Now maybe we can have _sex_.”

“W-wait a moment,” Rayyan said, recovering his breath. “But -- sex -- wasn’t that -- ?”

“Oh...Rin. There’s more. Even Khou knew that.”

“Don’t talk of my sister at a time like this!”

In a second, Haruka divested himself of his wedding clothing, finally, and used his undergarments to wipe them up. Naked, he padded over to the wash basin and rinsed the makeup off of his face, turning and stretching in the candle light to become his own body again.

Rayyan watched him from where he lay amid the pile of clothes, still in pants pushed hastily down to his hips.

“You are beautiful,” Rayyan said. “I thought so the moment I saw you swim.”

Kneeling at Rayyan’s feet, Haruka got rid of those pants, and kissed the sole of each foot. “Can we make it to the bed, or shall we have our first sex here by the door?”

“Do you need me to carry you in my arms again?” Rayyan smirked, and was rewarded by a slap to the hip. “Ow -- such a violent bride.”

“Come, idiot,” Haruka said, tugging Rayyan to his feet, and finally over to the bed.

Naked, they twined together and kissed again, kisses that grew slowly hotter as their bodies woke up again in a ridiculously short amount of time. This time, Haruka’s hands slid down to Rayyan’s bottom, feeling the firm flex of muscle beneath his palm, growing harder at the thought of teaching Rayyan, slowly, what it would feel like to be penetrated there.

“Rin. This is where I will have sex with you.” Haruka slid a finger down and wiggled it, hearing Rayyan’s gasp against his neck.

“So. We are going to hell for such a dirty thing,” Rayyan said after a moment, his whole body still shaking. “I’m glad there is a way, though. Do whatever you want to me, Haru, and we’ll get to spend an eternity in hell, together.”

“Then, my husband, lie back…” Feeling a little like he’d been given a magic lamp that could grant all of his wishes at once, Haruka rolled Rayyan to his back and sat over him, looking around… yes, the container of oil that he’d asked Mikoshiba to place near the bed was there. But he didn’t need it quite yet.

Another kiss...and then Haruka worked his way slowly down Rayyan’s body, getting to know it with his mouth, his tongue, his fingers. There was a spot just above the collarbone that made Rayyan’s skin rise in goosebumps, and Haruka played with it for so long that Rayyan swore at him.

“Get a move on, you idiot bride, don’t just bite my neck all night,” Rayyan growled, smacking Haruka’s leg with his palm.

Haruka chuckled again and bit along the edge of Rayyan’s collarbone, sliding his mouth to breath over a nipple again. This time, Haruka didn’t give Rayyan what he wanted, and simply placed his lips there until he felt Rayyan digging fingers into Haruka’s shoulders in frustration.

“I hate you,” Rayyan growled.

“No. Say what you mean, O my Caliph,” Haruka said, puffing air onto the flat nipple amid all the muscle of Rayyan’s chest. Such a beautiful body…

“I...aahhhh...I already love you. I’ve loved you since I saw you, no matter which you it was.”

Haruka stared up and saw Rayyan’s eyes edge with tears again, and to keep him from crying he gave each nipple a slow lick, picking one to suck while he reached a finger down to traced along a hip bone. Each suck made Rayyan shiver, and before too long Haruka felt the tip of Rayyan’s erection tracing wetness against the muscles of his stomach.

Haruka took it slowly, though, licking down to the indentation of belly button, and then down the soft red hair that trailed down from it. He placed a light kiss to the wet tip and sat up, reaching for the oil.

“What’s that, Haru?”

“It’ll help, Rin.”

“...Don’t tell me, I’m the virgin tonight.”

Haruka just smiled, pouring the oil over his fingers and pushing back Rayyan’s legs to better gain access to his bottom. He rubbed the oil over the outside of the opening, watching Rayyan’s face as it turned even redder and more embarrassed, until finally Rayyan threw an arm over his eyes.

“Don’t just look at me while you do that,” Rayyan growled. “This is hardly dignified.”

Haruka laughed softly again, and shifted his position to fill his mouth with Rayyan’s erection. Haruka was hungry for it; he paused his fingers to concentrate on the way it fit in his mouth and hardened as Rayyan’s body rose to meet him. Soon, Rayyan’s hips moved to met him halfway, and Rayyan’s noises grew louder and louder… then Haruka slowed his mouth and pushed in his finger, feeling immediately the heat and pressure and surprised clench…

Rayyan’s body stilled, and Haruka shifted again, moving to lie beside Rayyan, leaning down to kiss him while he pushed his finger inside again.

“Haru. I told you how I felt. Tell me?” Rayyan’s eyes looked a little lost while his body felt new things, so Haruka responded, kissing over to Rayyan’s ear and gently biting the lobe. 

“I --” Haruka pushed his finger into Rayyan’s body, to the hilt, feeling him gasp. “Long for you -- long to be inside of you -- worse than how I feel about _water_.”

Rayyan shivered again, gasping when Haruka found that place on his neck. He raised his knee to help Haruka along, letting out a slow breath when he felt another finger pressing inside.

“Somehow, even if you didn’t say anything about love, I feel like you just told me something amazing,” Rayyan chuckled, biting his lip with the strangeness of the feeling. It was a hot pressure inside of him, just on the edge of burning, and Rayyan wondered if he’d get any joy out of this aside from pleasing Haruka.

Just as he doubted, Rayyan felt something good, and his body rose despite itself. “What was that? Do it again,” he gasped.

“Ah. I found it.” Haruka’s fingers gently rubbed the spot again, and he was rewarded by a groan, and a sudden relaxation of the tightness around his fingers. He caught Rayyan’s mouth in his again, sliding his tongue in when Rayyan moaned, feeling his own erection ache in anticipation. This body -- knowing he could make it move and ache and arch at his own will -- filled Haruka’s heart with a heady joy.

“Give yourself to me now,” Rayyan demanded after a long moment, and from the string of wetness leaking onto Rayyan’s stomach from the top of his erection, Haruka knew that the moment was nigh.

He positioned himself between Rayyan’s legs again, liberally wetting himself with oil, and leaned forward to kiss his lover again.

Haruka pulled back and their eyes met. Rayyan looked hungry for him.

“HURRY.”

Haruka complied, pressing himself against the opening, feeling Rayyan’s body part… Rayyan’s expression dissolved into pain for a moment until Haruka was all the way inside, and then, Haruka began to move.

Kissing Rayyan, they moved together, a slow, exploratory motion that tested the limits of their bodies, seeing how much of Haruka that Rayyan could take in...seeing how much pleasure Haruka could give him in return.

At a certain point, the pain in Rayyan’s eyes turned to hunger again, and Haruka hastened his motions, feeling Rayyan growl against his mouth. “Haru -- I’ve never felt -- this way --”

Haruka gave his own moaning assent, pressing into the velvet tightness of Rayyan’s body until he had to send his mind elsewhere or explode again.

He put a hand between them and found Rayyan’s erection still just as hard, timing his strokes to the thrusting of his own body, feeling Rayyan shiver and twist and move to meet him. The timeless moment built and built, and their eyes met at the moment when Haruka could feel Rayyan thicken in his hand.

“Kiss me, Haru --” Rayyan panted, and the kiss turned into an open-mouthed gasp of pleasure as Haruka felt Rayyan come between them.

Then Haruka let his own motions increase in pace, letting himself go to push into Rayyan’s heat. “I will come inside you, Rin,” he moaned against Rayyan’s ear, and let himself go completely, feeling such a sense of profound joy that it was almost like seeing light on the surface of water from far below.

They lay aching together for a moment, Haruka’s face pillowed in Rayyan’s hair, Rayyan’s arms wrapped around his back.

Then, Haruka felt Rayyan’s finger prod his side. “My thigh is cramping.”

“Oops,” Haruka said sheepishly, slowly pulling out, and then mopping up the results as best he could. “Ah, it will be a little messy.”

“Can’t be helped.” Rayyan stretched, a luxurious wiggle, his eyes looking drowsy as he stared up at Haruka. “Come here and hold me, bride.”

Haruka let himself flop beside Rayyan, pulling him close, feeling their bodies immediately sensitize for each other. He leaned down to kiss him again, only to get rolled to his back.

“I’m doing that next,” Rayyan announced.

“After we sleep a bit. It’s been quite a long day.”

Haruka saw Rayyan pout and covered his eyes. “That’s unfair.”

“My butt hurts. I demand retribution. And I’ll make you say it, this time, and not just about _water_.”

“Make me say what?” Haruka sighed. “Fine, but only because it’s our wedding night. Now -- get the oil…”

~

Outside their door, two figures paused in the darkness. 

“Was that my brother just then? Do you think he was on the bottom?” Khou whispered to Mikoshiba, her expression shocked.

“Of course he was,” Mikoshiba said, his face turning rosy as he caught the final few gasps of the sex behind the door. “But that’s their business, right? We have our own to take care of.”

Khou slid her hand into Mikoshiba’s, tugging him down the hall. “Yes, while everyone is too distracted to notice, let’s go!”

~

A moment of happiness,  
you and I sitting on the verandah,  
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.  
We feel the flowing water of life here,  
you and I, with the garden's beauty  
and the birds singing.

The stars will be watching us,  
and we will show them  
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.  
You and I unselfed, will be together,  
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.

The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar  
as we laugh together, you and I.  
In one form upon this earth,  
and in another form in a timeless sweet land. 

\-- Rumi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this, I appreciate that you journeyed with me through this fic! Add me on Tumblr, if you like, I am Atama-ga-ippai.


	10. Omake: The wedding of Khou and Miyaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote hetero sex. Go me.

The small bathing room was strange, Khou thought. The bath could barely seat two people, and she was glad that she and Haruka were both reasonably small. How did Miyaz fit in the bath, though? Khou scratched her head, looking around at the bare floor, the bath filled with steaming hot water, and the barrel of cold water that she was supposed to cleanse herself with first.

“Ah -- it’s a Japanese-style bathing room,” Haruka said, stepping inside. He had a small cloth wrapped around his waist for modesty, but the rest of him was bare. He was also holding several smaller cloths, and handed Khou one of them. “Dip this into the water, and apply the lye to it, and then rub it into a lather against your skin…”

Khou jumped and turned, blushing, because she was not clothed at all -- not even in her veil. But they’d bathed together before, Khou and the bride of the Caliph, and Haruka did a very good job of not looking anywhere but into her eyes.

It did help that he was married to her brother. “Ah, yes. Should I pour this water over me to rid myself of the lather before I get into the tiny tub?” Khou asked. It was very, very different from the expansive bath houses at the palace, but soon it would be hers, and her life would shift from the palace to this house when the orange harvest was nigh.

Khou could take it; even if it was vastly different from the life she’d led, she could get used to the change.

“Ah, let me help you.”

Holding obediently still, Khou let Haruka wet the cloth and rub her down with it, from her feet to her shoulders. 

“I will not touch places that might get me slain by my brother,” Haruka chuckled, handing her the cloth for those areas. “Even though I treasure you as a sister already, he still sees me as a man.”

Khou blushed, waiting for Haruka to turn before she cleansed herself completely. Then he dipped water over her to rinse her off, leaving her skin shivering.

“Into the bath you go to warm up,” Haruka said, herding her along. Then he washed as well, and soon they sat companionably at opposite ends of the little tub. “My father installed this bath for Miyaz and I. We described it to him from our childhood memories, and helped to build it. It reminded us both of home.”

“It’s very cozy. I imagine that not many houses here have a bath where you may immerse yourself completely.”

“There was only a vat of water for washing when we first arrived here,” Haruka said, remembering back to their first few days out of the desert. “But we soon learned that our father was nothing if not generous. He wished us to feel at home immediately.” Haruka’s expression softened as he looked down, playing games with the water in his hands.

“Ah, I wish I could have met such a father-in-law.”

“Miyaz is very like him. It’s almost as though his true nature emerged when he came here. If there is anything like fate, I know that it brought Miyaz and me to where we needed to be… to meet you and your brother.” Haruka met Khou’s eyes and gave his tiny, contented smile.

“And today is my wedding day!” Khou gave an equally happy smile in return. “And you must instruct me on the ways of marriage!”

Haruka bit his lip. “Yes...I was aware of this duty. Do you not know already, Khou? Do you have questions for me that you have not already answered long ago, with your handmaidens?”

“Yes, actually…” Khou slid down into the water so that only her nose and lips were showing, hiding the rest of her behind a cloud of wet hair. “Haruka. Tell me how to best please my husband, so that he will be filled with joy every night when we meet in our bed.” She rose up far enough so that her ears were out of the water, peeking at Haruka.

“Ah. ...Khou, I… will tell you as directly as I can, although I am not skilled in the ways of the yoni.” Haruka took a deep breath -- he’d been preparing for this, after all, because it was the tradition. “For the most part, my brother will bear the weight of preparation. Because you are untouched, the skin within you must be gently stretched. This, at least, is the same for men as for women. After your body opens enough, you will be able to feel pleasure from it. My brother is a loving man, and he will make every effort that when he parts your body, you will welcome him with eagerness.”

“Yes, but…” Khou shook her head, feeling just a little exasperated. “You have to tell me in detail, and not with all of those romantic words like ‘gentle’ and ‘eager.’ What do I do, sister?”

Haruka laughed again, and this time, he blushed. “Well. I will tell you about my last night with your brother, and then perhaps you will comprehend when I say that I am unused to the ways of women…”

Khou nodded eagerly, sitting forward.

...Five minutes later they were both blushing and snickering as they held their hands to their faces.

“Really, my brother likes THAT? And -- you say that it’s possible for me to do it as well?”

Haruka nodded. “I am more than certain you will be treated to it too, after all of the festivities are over.”

Now Khou’s face matched her hair, and she worried that it wouldn’t go away, not even when she should be looking like a pure-minded bride…

Then came a knocking at the door.

“You two -- it’s time to put on your garments!” Aiyaz’s voice, sounding just a little melancholy. “The few guests that we invited are here, and -- honestly, why couldn’t we have done this at the palace? Do you know how many times I’ve stepped in donkey dung?”

~

This time, Haruka helped Khou into her bridal finery in his own bedroom. Because it was a small party consisting of only the family and very few others, Haruka got away with wearing the loose pants and robes of a desert-dwelling man. Khou, however, wore the white of a bride, cinched at the waist with a bright sash of gold cloth. Her hair and face were once again covered, and small bells hung from the ends of her veil.

“You look like any man’s dream of a bride,” Haruka said, smiling from where he adjusted the bottom hem of her dress. 

It was nearing the time of her wedding. Khou felt her heartbeat increase, and her mind was filled with nothing but images of Mikoshiba. She thought of how his hair looked in the middle of his orange grove when the sun beat down upon it and turned it into burnished copper. She thought of his body flexing and reaching for the oranges high on the trees… and how he looked when tending the donkeys, and...

“-- Your mind is far from here, Khou!” Haruka chuckled. “Is it full of all the usual thoughts of a bride?”

“I was just thinking that I’m glad my wedding is small, because I can’t wait to get him alone.”

“Yes. I am envious. Your idiot brother made me sit through something long and unnecessary. I still believe it was to punish me.”

“Oh it definitely was,” Khou said, giggling. 

“Are you two ready?” Aiyaz came into Haruka’s bedroom, flopping on the bed.

“Ah no -- I just need to apply the kohl,” Haruka said, turning to carefully pick up the slender tube of kohl and line Khou’s eyes. 

When she was ready, Haruka looked at her with an expression of quiet pride. His years of training at costuming prepared him for this task, and she looked modestly alluring.

“You’re all grown up now,” Ai said, blinking back tears from the corners of his eyes.

Khou sighed. “Why should becoming a bride make me any more or less grown up than I already was? I swear, you men…”

Chuckling, Haruka picked up a small pipe and began to play, and Aiyaz shouldered a drum. Walking together at either side of her, they formed Khou’s very small bridal parade.

Hearing the music made Khou remember Haruka’s wedding day, when she watched him hoisted high on the shoulders of men in his palanquin to be paraded through the palace. She felt glad that she was walking to meet her groom on her own two feet. Somehow, it felt more fair.

They walked through the house to the garden, and from the garden past the donkey pen, and finally into the orchard beyond. There upon soft rugs spread beneath the trees sat old Sa’id with a scroll of the Qu’ran in his hands, and beside him, glowing with joy, Khou’s groom.

~

Mikoshiba stood the second that he saw the Calipha in her wedding finery, his hand rising to clutch the fabric over his heart. He positively ached when he saw her; he heard nothing in his ears but the rushing of his blood.

Rayyan, wearing the plain Berber clothing that Haruka had chosen for him, stood near the little group. He too felt his heart throb when he saw his sister walking toward them, and reached out to take Haruka’s hand. 

“You did too well when you dressed her today,” Rayyan grumbled. “I can’t stand seeing her looking this beautiful.”

“Hush, Rin,” said Haruka, squeezing Rayyan’s hand. “Look at my brother’s face.”

Mikoshiba’s expression was like sunrise as he took Khou’s hands in his. He bent to whisper in her ear, and through her veil, Haruka could see the faint shadow of a smile.

Sa’id the storyteller came forward, bowing low to Mikoshiba, the Calipha and the Caliph, Haruka, and their friends from the market. He unrolled the Qu’ran and waited for silence. The small crowd stilled, and Sa’id raised his voice, which was still commanding even in his old age.

“The words of the prophet say that the One has created for you your perfect mate, the person that you will dwell with in tranquility for eternity, with love and mercy in your heart. This wedding is between true equals, for Miyaz El-Amin has a heart as large as a kingdom for his Calipha to rule, and the Calipha will govern this kingdom with all of her wisdom. May the children of their union be blessed.

“Let us sing --”

Together, the gathered guests raised their voices to sing the wedding song of Rumi, and the music echoed so loudly that even the donkeys raised their voices to bray with them:

_May these vows and this marriage be blessed.  
May it be sweet milk,  
this marriage, like wine and halvah.  
May this marriage offer fruit and shade  
like the date palm.  
May this marriage be full of laughter,  
our every day a day in paradise.  
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,  
a seal of happiness here and hereafter._

Hearing the music around them, Khou stared up at Mikoshiba, feeling as though her whole world existed in the brightness of his gaze. She felt the slight tremble in his warm hands as he held hers. What he’d whispered to her was _I love you_ and nothing more, but it was truly all that she desired, and her smile to him was full of promise.

They left the wedding feast as soon as they could, hand in hand, leaving their guests to listen to Sa’id and Haruka tell stories from the long history of their land. Khou looked back to see Aiyaz staring with wistfulness at Rayyan, but Rayyan was utterly captivated by Haruka’s tale. ...That was sad. Khou made a mental note to find someone young and strong to be Aiyaz’s vizier in Fez, perhaps with hair as unique in color as Rayyan’s, but with a personality much less difficult.

“What are you thinking, my wife?” Mikoshiba asked, pausing before the threshold of his -- no, their -- house. He swept her up into his arms to carry over the mantle, and Khou sucked in her breath to feel the muscles of his shoulders and arms tense under her palms. 

“Whatever I was thinking is gone now,” Khou said, feeling her blush spread as she ran her hands behind his shoulders. They’d kissed before, and even a little more, but now he was _hers_ to play with as she wanted.

A moment later, they were in Mikoshiba’s -- no, their -- bedroom, and he set her gently upon the bed, kneeling in front of her to simply stare.

~

Khou let Mikoshiba look, and after a while his gaze was as warm as his fingers could be, and it made her body itch. “Husband. Um. I think we’re supposed to do more than just look…”

Mikoshiba laughed sheepishly, his cheeks turning bright red. “In all of my years on earth, I never thought that I’d be given a gift this precious. I never thought I would see you sitting here waiting for me to touch you.”

“Too many words, too little action,” Khou grumbled, and reached up to take off her veil. Mikoshiba caught her hand in his, stilling her motion, and unhooked her veil himself. After the veil, her jacket fell to the floor, and after that, the gold belt. Clad only in the white under-robe of a bride, Mikoshiba pulled her down onto his lap and caught her lips with his.

The kiss made Khou ache with frustration -- sliding their tongues together, she felt a heat grow in her that fought against the resistance of Mikoshiba’s almost reverent pace. Khou gripped the edges of his tunic as they kissed, easing it up and off until his torso was bare to her hands.

Oh, yes. _Yes_. Khou bit her lip as she pushed Mikoshiba to his back onto the soft carpet of the floor, straddling his hips. It was her turn to stare, but it didn’t last long. She quickly bent and placed kisses beneath his chin, down the strong length of his neck, to the well-defined muscles of his shoulder and torso. He twitched beneath her kisses but held as still as he could.

“You are the gift, my husband,” Khou said, her breath hastening as she traced the outline of a chest muscle with her lips.

“Khou --” Mikoshiba groaned, and a second later his hands loosened the tie to her long hair. It spilled over her shoulders and onto his body, and his hands worked their way into it to play with the soft locks. Suddenly Khou could feel him hardening beneath her hips, and was struck with an urgent desire to see what this might look like.

Khou’s curiosity raged, and she pulled away from Mikoshiba’s hands to sit beside him, fumbling with the tie to loosen his pants.

Mikoshiba put his hands behind his head, smiling at her with flushed cheeks. “I am yours to explore.”

Another moment later and Khou pulled off his pants. Mikoshiba lay naked beside her, his erection high against the muscles of his stomach, pillowed by soft red hair. Khou stared, watching Mikoshiba’s blush spread along his entire body until it even encompassed _that_. Her hand hesitated over him for a moment, and she felt suddenly shy.

“Touch me -- wh -- wherever you want,” Mikoshiba said, his voice just a little ragged. “I am yours, my wife.”

Those words broke Khou’s reserve, and she loosened the white garment she wore, letting it drop so that they were naked together on the soft rug.

Mikoshiba sucked in his breath, staring at her, and then said, “But … you’d best hurry a little, because now I want to kiss every part of you.”

Khou laughed, but her hand went out to curiously tangle in the softness of his red curls. Then she touched him, hearing the intake of his breath again, and then his low moan as she slid her hand from the base to the top. He felt so very rigid against her fingers; the top was wet. 

“Will this fit inside of me?” Khou’s own voice sounded breathless, and she could feel his body trembling from the effort of keeping still at her soft touches.

“Our bodies are a perfect match,” Mikoshiba reassured her, and then his control broke. A moment later, Khou was on her back with Mikoshiba’s mouth on hers, and his hand outlining the shape of her body. 

Their kiss was long enough that Khou felt like she was being molded, shaped by Mikoshiba’s fingers into something new. He caressed her breasts, the curve of her waist, the hard edges of her hipbones, down the muscles of her thighs. She felt the heat and heaviness of his body pressing against her -- large, solid, and muscled -- and knew with a strange twinge of excitement that if he wanted to, he could hold her helpless. She simply trusted that he would not, and in that trust was all of her love…

“You taste wonderful.” Mikoshiba’s voice was breathless as his lips dropped over her breast.

In that moment Khou felt her mind cease to function on a higher level. There was nothing that she’d ever felt quite like the sensation of being suckled by Mikoshiba’s mouth, and without any further thought her legs wrapped around Mikoshiba’s strong back and she pushed her nipple more firmly into his mouth. 

“Mmmfmf --” Mikoshiba said, his laughter muffled against her body, and then he groaned because she slid down, wrapping her legs around his hips, sliding two wet places close to each other. “Not yet, please,” Mikoshiba panted, his hands rising to hold her wrists down against the ground. For a moment he was seduced, though, and Khou felt just the hint of a strange, teasing goodness as he rubbed his body slowly against hers. 

Khou’s groan trailed off into a whimper as Mikoshiba stopped, moving his lips to her neck, trailing kisses down the center of her body to her belly button.

Their eyes met when he glanced up at her, his gaze dark and his chin settled right over her soft maroon curls. Was he going to kiss her even...there? The thought made Khou shudder and shift restlessly beneath him, her fingers twining into his hair.

Then Mikoshiba’s mouth moved _there_ , and the kisses down into her curls settled somewhere amazingly good -- and he suckled her slowly and with great concentration. Khou couldn’t hear herself anymore, and her heels dug into the flesh of his muscular back, fingers holding his head firmly in place.

“M- more -- more --” Khou chanted, her demands becoming increasingly ragged as the need deep within her grew. “I need something --” _In me._

Mikoshiba seemed to hear her unspoken words, because he licked his fingers until spit trailed from them, and found the small place that had never felt touch before.

Slowly he began to open her, taking his time, pausing when she felt tight to tease her with his mouth again. Two fingers… and Mikoshiba felt the hard resistance of the ring of flesh inside of her. He distracted her from the stretching by suckling with increasing strength on the hardened spot above his fingers -- and finally judged by her noises that she was about to come.

Khou felt something happening within her body -- a tension that pulled and pulled and rose and rose until it felt stretched so taunt that it had to explode. “W-Wait --” she cried, scared of what would come, but Mikoshiba’s mouth mercilessly pulled her over that cliff, and she finally knew. She felt nothing but rising waves of pleasure after that -- one after the other, after the other, because Mikoshiba’s mouth didn’t stop -- and at the end of it, when Khou whimpered from a pleasure bordering on pain, Mikoshiba ceased to suckle her and rose above her.

“Khou...” Mikoshiba stared down at her, his eyes loving as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “May I enter?”

“That’s the point,” Khou said, breathlessly and a little grumpily, and Mikoshiba laughed.

“I wonder if my brother enjoys this endearing family grumpiness as much as I do…”

And with a slow, hard push that strained and tore the skin inside of her, their bodies were one. Mikoshiba remained perfectly still when he was within her, though, his body settled against hers, his mouth against her ear.

“This time, love, I will not be in you long,” Mikoshiba said. “It will chafe and ache too much. When you heal, we will play like this… But for now, I will be slow.”

And Mikoshiba was slow, slowly filling her up and moving again, and even if it ached from the tear, the need deep within her to be filled was so overpowering that she soon had his hips in her hands, moving her own hips to make him go faster.

“My husband -- I’m tougher than I look,” Khou cried in exasperation. “Please -- put it in me like you _want to_.”

“I -- “ Mikoshiba’s expression was torn for a moment, as if he was thinking of the many brotherly figures that would beat him if he hurt her. But then Khou’s hand came down in a hard smack on the muscles of his bottom, and he jolted in surprise.

“PUT IT IN ME FASTER,” Khou howled, her brows drawing together, “OR I WILL LAY YOU ON YOUR BACK AND TAKE YOU.”

Mikoshiba laughed again, and leaned down to join their mouths in a hard, hungry kiss, moving his hips until he was in deep -- deeper --, and Khou felt an entirely different feeling of completion. They both cried out, Mikoshiba’s moans low and abandoned as he let himself take her -- on and on until she could feel him trembling against her body and felt the thickness inside of her swell even thicker. 

“NNH -- KHOU --” Mikoshiba panted, and a moment later Khou watched his face contort and flush as he came inside of her. She held him, arms and legs wrapped around him, letting him ride out the long moments of his pleasure. ...When he was done, though, she still felt her own desire coiling in her gut. 

Her man seemed useless for a moment, but his expression was glowing with a huge smile as he lay with his whole weight trapping her body…

“Miyaz -- Miyaz -- um -- can you -- do that again with your mouth? I want to feel that again,” Khou said, prodding him in the side with her fingertip.

“It would be my pleasure. Even if a man is easily spent, I know that a woman is not, and I will satisfy you until dawn,” Mikoshiba said, a little sleepily, pulling slowly out of her. He kissed her once again as their bodies parted, and Khou felt the strange and indescribably feeling of something that had never been missing before, missing...

Then Khou glanced down and saw that Mikoshiba was still hard. “Or...perhaps we’d better both satisfy each other all over again,” she said, grinning and reaching out to touch him, remembering the advice that Haruka had given her earlier. “Why don’t you lie on your back and rest a moment…” She sat up and mentally prepared herself, thinking that if her brother did it, then she could too. She pushed Mikoshiba to his back and got between his legs.

“What are you -- Khou -- you don’t have to -- “ Mikoshiba said, staring as Khou leaned down...

“I love you, my husband! Now relax.”

“Khou -- !”

~

Lying on the blankets beneath the branches of an orange tree, Rayyan’s hand slid far under Haruka’s shirt, his mouth on Haruka’s neck. The party was several groves away from them, and they could hear the sounds of laughter and dancing in the distance.

“It’s so rare that I can mess around with you in men’s clothing,” Rayyan said, gripping some of the fabric of Haruka’s shirt with his teeth.

“Do you think they’ve done it yet?” Haruka asked, pulling Rayyan’s body more firmly against his. The night was just a little cool, but Rayyan’s skin was warm...

“Why would you say such a thing now?” Rayyan said, frowning and glancing at him with a bit of annoyance. “I don’t want to even think of it.”

“You don’t?” Haruka chuckled. “I do. I hope my brother acquitted himself well as a man, tonight.”

Rayyan snorted. “What you need,” he said, “Is to be well and truly shut up.”

And a moment later, Haruka’s mind was entirely distracted from the thought of his brother and new sister-in-law…

~

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I mean it this time.)
> 
> Much love to you all for reading. Come chat with me on Tumblr: atama-ga-ippai.


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